


Fraternization Rules

by twangcat



Series: Once more is too much and never enough [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, F/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, but there might even be hints of plot, don’t even try, fraternization rules as plot device, honorable restraint, not AoS compliant, pay no attention to MCU timeline, thing happen in roughly the same order but a lot of things change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twangcat/pseuds/twangcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fury stormed the hallways of SHIELD, junior agents trained to face unspeakable terrors had been known to flee; when he actually lost his temper, world leaders cowed. Coulson knew that his reputation for standing up to Fury through all his stages of rage had led to two competing theories: either he was actually an advanced android programmed specifically to balance Fury, or he knew something so incriminating about the man that he had made himself untouchable. Coulson had considered the first option (a perfect android wouldn't necessarily know they were an android) but had long since decided that if the facsimile of living as a human being with free will was so complete that he couldn't prove he wasn’t, then he could accept it. Today he thought he was getting his first real proof that, yes, there was a line he could cross that Fury might not forgive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been working this story since early 2015 so pretty much anyone I’ve talked fic with in that time has helped me with it. You are all wonderful and thank you very much.
> 
> This story will have three parts and the first two are mostly finished. I plan to post one-two chapters per week.

When Fury stormed the hallways of SHIELD, junior agents trained to face unspeakable terrors had been known to flee; when he actually lost his temper, world leaders cowed. Coulson knew that his reputation for standing up to Fury through all his stages of rage had led to two competing theories: either he was actually an advanced android programmed specifically to balance Fury, or he knew something so incriminating about the man that he had made himself untouchable. Coulson had considered the first option (a perfect android wouldn't necessarily know they were an android) but had long since decided that if the facsimile of living as a human being with free will was so complete that he couldn't prove he wasn’t, then he could accept it. Today he thought he was getting his first real proof that, yes, there was a line he could cross that Fury might not forgive.  

"Fuck, Phil. You couldn't keep your motherfucking hands to yourself for one more god-damned minute?" With obvious effort, Fury stilled himself into an appearance of calm control and quietly sat down behind his desk -- that was when Coulson felt his insides start to go cold.

When he continued, Fury didn’t sound like a man ready to take a swing at Coulson in a fit of rage -- he sounded like a man prepared to calmly commit the act of murder because it was what he had decided needed to be done. "I let you get away with a lot, Phil, because you are the best at what you do and we have a history, but I can’t protect you on this. If you push me I will do what I must to end this situation. Do you hear me, Coulson? This cannot happen again."

Coulson automatically stood to attention, "Sir. Yes, Sir." As a Ranger he had learned to operate within Don't Ask Don't Tell and he could feel himself shifting back into that frame of mind. He was used to thinking of Nick as a friend, as his best friend, but if Nick was going to quote rules and regulation at him over this, then he would fight fire with fire.

He'd only gotten one kiss from Barton. Finding him in that warehouse after a grueling 36-hour search, his relief coupled with his exhaustion and the look Barton had given him had broken through his armor of professionalism and he had rushed in to gather his sniper (yes  _his_ , that was how he thought of him) into his arms. It hadn't been a manly two pats on the back kind of hug, it had been an embrace, wrapping his arms around his archer's strong shoulders, feeling the muscles rippling under his hands, breathing in the scent that was uniquely Barton and feeling himself finally relax.

The hug had lasted too long, neither pulling away, hands slowly running over each other’s bodies. When he tried to pull back, Barton had leaned in and captured his lips in a searing kiss that was everything Phil had been fantasizing about for years. And that was when the rest of the cavalry had arrived, walking in on the one moment in his life that Coulson would have most wanted to keep private.

Director Fury interrupted Phil’s thoughts, “Someone has filed an anonymous report against you with Alexander Pierce, MY boss on the World Security Council, and now I’M getting hell for it.” Nick sighed. “I can’t make this problem go away and even if I could, Phil, when there is a chain of command involved, we have anti-fraternization rules for a reason. It’s people management 101: if your team thinks you play favorites they aren’t going to trust you to lead them, and nothing matters more than trust out in the field. I KNOW you know this; so this is never going to happen again, right, Coulson?”

Coulson continued to stand at attention and kept his eyes locked on the wall behind the Director’s head. “Sir. Yes, Sir.” and Phil knew damn well Nick would hear the unspoken, ‘go to hell, sir.’

Fury’s tone was bitterly dry. “I’m so glad you’ll agree to play within the rules, Agent. In the meantime we still have to deal with your recent indiscretion. You can appeal the charges and present your case to a tribunal, but with the number of witnesses involved I would advise against it, however the choice is yours: would you like to bring this case before a tribunal or will you accept the disciplinary action of your supervising officer?”

“I will accept the disciplinary action of my supervising officer, sir,” replied Phil with cool military precision.

Fury activated a recording system.  “Let the record show that Agent Phillip Coulson has been accused of sexual misconduct with Agent Clinton Barton, his subordinate officer. Agent Coulson, how do you plead?”

Coulson continued to stand to attention and clipped, “Guilty, sir.”

“As Agent Barton’s immediate supervisor, you are in a position of authority over him. Did you in any way by words, actions or inaction, pressure Agent Barton in to pursuing a physical relationship with you?”

“No, sir.”

“Agent Coulson, as a senior agent you are responsible for the lives of not only hundreds of SHIELD agents on a daily basis but also the thousands of civilians that we strive to protect. Your behavior shows poor judgement on your behalf, reflects poorly on me as your supervising officer, and, due to your senior position, has potentially damaged the trust all agents have in the operations division leadership team.”

Phil felt his insides curl in on themselves. Nick wasn’t wrong. Trust was important and he had endangered that trust within the division he was responsible for.

Fury continued, “Do you have anything you wish to say in your defense?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well. Regulations state that sexual relations between an Agent and their SO are, without exception, strictly forbidden; however, taking into consideration the minor nature of the infraction and your otherwise exemplary service record, I am prepared to be as lenient as possible. As of the end of day today, you are hereby relieved of duty and suspended without pay for forty-eight hours.”

Nick continued by rote. “Please use this time to consider your actions and what you will do differently in future situations. Your disregard for SHIELD protocol will be marked in your permanent file. Please also be advised that if any evidence comes to light suggesting that you in any way pressured Agent Barton into pursuing a physical relationship with you, the disciplinary measures for you will be reviewed and revised, up to and including the possibility of permanent dismissal and/or criminal charges. Upon your return to duty you will be expected to complete sixteen hours of mandatory counseling. The content of the sessions will be confidential, however if you are found to be uncooperative, the disciplinary measures against you may be reviewed and revised. As you are the direct supervisor of the other agent involved, I will be conducting Agent Barton’s disciplinary review. At this time you may either accept these terms or request a tribunal review. If you request a tribunal review you must accept their decision. How do you wish to proceed?”

“I accept your disciplinary review, Director Fury.”

“Very well. Your access will be suspended as of 2359 tonight, please leave any SHIELD property, including your phone, in your office before that time. Your clearance level while on suspension will be effectively zero so any attempt to access secure SHIELD facilities in person or online will be viewed as trespassing with possible criminal intent. This concludes the disciplinary review for Agent Philip Coulson.” Fury turned off the recording system.

Phil continued to stand at attention and said nothing. Nick tried to make eye contact, but Phil kept his gaze resolutely fixed on the wall behind him. “Phil, if something like this happens again, I’m not going to be able to protect you.”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

“No, Phil, I don’t think you fucking do!” snapped Fury. “You forget that I know you, Cheese. I was your right-hand man in the Rangers when you and Sergeant Daniels were sneaking around. I had your back then and, believe it or not, this is me having your back now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck you, Cheese.” Fury’s anger had gone from the loud angry flames of a fire to the bitter cold of steel in wintertime. “Fuck you and your holier-than-thou boy scout ideals.” Fury took a breath. “I have to debrief Barton now but I’m going to be at the Pancake House a little after midnight and I know you won’t have anywhere fucking better to be. Now get the hell out of my office.”

“Yes, sir.” Phil spun on his heel and left.


	2. Old Friends and Old Codes

The Pancake House was an old code between them. Over the years, when they wanted to meet away from the office, this mom-and-pop diner had become their safe place to do it. When Nick decided to propose to Melinda May, this was where he showed Phil the ring. Years later, when she left him, Phil took Nick to a bar instead. When they were plotting for Nick to become the successor for the Director position, this was where they strategized. And last month, when Phil found a HYDRA mole inside SHIELD, this is where he showed Nick the evidence. So having taken appropriate security measures to lose any tail he might have, Phil walked into the diner just after the clock stuck midnight and scanned around for Nick.

The Pancake House was set up like a ‘50s style diner, decor that could be described as garish or nostalgic depending on the viewer’s perspective with tall plastic booths that gave privacy to the patrons and a steady stream of classic rock that was loud enough to make eavesdropping difficult but not too loud for conversation.

Nick was sitting in their usual booth with his sunglasses on over his eyepatch and a sweater instead of his leather duster, which was more than enough to put Phil on high alert. He slid silently into the seat across from Nick and waited, equally prepared to talk to his friend or defend them both against a physical attack.

“I ordered for you,” grumbled Nick, in the tone of someone who was trying to do something nice, but didn’t really know how. Phil raised an eyebrow at him and waited. “Pancakes with extra chocolate chips and extra bacon on the side, just the way you like.”

Phil frowned at him. “I don’t want your damn pancakes.” 

He was not in a mood to make nice with the man who had punished him for a consensual kiss like it was violent sexual assault. 

“Well pancakes are what you’re getting,” snapped Nick.

“I think I know what I want, and I don’t think you have a say in it,” Phil growled.

“No,” replied Nick firmly. “I’m not going to let you risk it. He’s got a complaint file twice as thick as your awards file, Phil. Hypothetically, I could have him fired with cause by the end of the week...” Nick casually let the threat hang in the air while he calmly buttered a piece of toast.

Phil displayed no reaction, but his mind was racing. Nick wasn’t playing for an audience here, this was just the two of them, so what the hell was going on?

“I could quit,” tested Phil.

Nick put down his toast and scowled at Phil. “You wouldn’t.”

Phil leaned in and smiled, “I might... You don’t own me, Nick.”

“There are prisons that could hold him and if you walk out on me now I will have him locked up where even Natasha couldn’t get him out!” threatened Nick.

Phil sat back in his seat and looked Nick over carefully. Contemplatively he said, “I’m not sure what I want an explanation for first. How one damn kiss became sexual misconduct; who reported me; why my best friend is going along with it, although I suspect the answer to the first two would make that one obvious; who you are hiding from, probably the same as question two; why you didn’t--”

Nick cut him off, “You played me!”

“You’re lucky it was just me,” retorted Phil. “So you were what, threatening to trump up charges and throw him in jail? I’ve never seen you this on edge!”

Nick scowled at him, but it didn’t have the same heat it had before, “So you’re not going to go after him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Damn it, Phil!”

“You don’t have the right to choose this for me, Nick.” Phil held up his hand to stop him from interrupting. “No, let me explain.” Nick frowned but nodded. “I’ve thought for a long time that he could be the one for me; however, all the very valid reasons why we have anti-fraternization rules stopped me from doing anything about it. But when I thought I might have lost him forever... I was ready to rip that thug apart with my bare hands to find Clint.” 

Phil took a breath to steady himself and continued in a softer tone, his lips twitching in a small smile. “He can make me laugh even after a bad mission, and when he smiles because of something I’ve done, I carry that warmth inside me for hours afterwards.” 

Phil’s gaze hardened and he pinned Fury with a look. “There are dozens of agents who have affairs within SHIELD that everyone turns a blind eye to. I don’t understand why this is getting so much attention, but I do know that I would be discreet, and to be honest, I don’t think even your network could catch us.”

Fury was unmoved. “How many people within SHIELD do you think are capable of keeping a secret from me?

Phil thought for a moment. “Six. Including Strike Team Delta.”

Nick nodded. “That was my count too.” Nick said the next part slowly. “I have no idea who reported you to Pierce.”

Phil’s mind raced and his eyes started to go wide. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions here, Marcus,” he breathed, “so I’m going to talk this through one question at a time.” Nick nodded. “How many HYDRA moles did you find?”

The corner of Nick’s mouth twitched. “I think you skipped a lot of questions there, Cheese.”

“Was I wrong about any of the answers?”

“Probably not.”

“Then answer the question.”

Nick groaned. “I’ve confirmed three based in HQ, each part of a separate cell. I have strong suspicions of twelve more, suspicions with enough evidence that anyone other than you would accept it as proof, and based on what I suspect their cell structure is, I can extrapolate that--” Nick’s voice cracked, “I can extrapolate that approximately one quarter of all SHIELD agents are HYDRA.”

Phil whistled the sound of a rocket crashing.

“I fucked up,” Nick confessed. “Somewhere along the way, this force for good I thought I was leading got subverted and it’s being eaten alive from the inside out. It’s been happening for years, probably decades, and in all that time, out of all of the hundreds of thousands of good agents, you are the ONLY fucking one who saw it. Fuck, Cheese,” Nick scrubbed a hand down his face, “even I didn’t see it until you rubbed my nose in it.”

“Do they suspect you know?”

“No. The one thing we did right was having that meeting here. And I wasn’t stupid enough to put your evidence into my computer. I think they have access to everything that goes through my office. I’m keeping paper notes using our old Ranger cypher.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I’m still working on it. But SHIELD is going to fall if I don’t come up with something and we are starting with nothing. I need you. This situation is beyond fucked up and, until we can prove otherwise, you and I are the only people we can be 100% certain aren’t HYDRA.”

“And if I get caught with Clint, HYDRA is going to use him to get me fired.” Nick just scowled and nodded. “I wasn’t planning on giving him up.”

“I know,” commiserated Nick.

“I had a plan. I had safehouses in mind, holiday weekends, extra nights on missions. I didn’t even know if he would agree, but I had it all planned out,” Phil sighed. “I know Clint. He’s going to get in touch with me sometime in the next two days to apologize because he’s going to blame himself. I had a whole speech planned. Dammit, Nick, I was planning to woo him.” 

Phil felt like he was giving up the first warm sunlight he’d felt after years of nothing but cold winter. He wasn’t a man who usually complained that life wasn’t fair, but damn it; this wasn’t fair! “He could have been the one for me, Marcus, and now that it could happen, I have to push him away.”

“I’m sorry, Cheese. If the stakes were any smaller, I wouldn’t ask this of you.” Phil didn’t respond so Nick continued, “If it helps, I’ve warned him off seeing you for the next two days. He knows he’d be risking his job if he tries to get in touch with you while you’re both suspended. I thought you’d want the space.”

Phil felt hollow on the inside, “Thanks Marcus, having some time on my own will help.” He closed his eyes and gave himself one last minute to remember the kiss before he had to lock that memory away forever. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to skip the pancakes and just go home. I think this has literally been the worst twenty-four hours of my life in which nobody died.”

“Sure thing, Cheese. Whatever you need.”


	3. The First 24 Hours

Clint woke up the next morning feeling every inch of the hangover he’d earned. Natasha was on a deep cover mission in Berlin and Phil was the source of his problem -- No. He cut off that train of thought and chastised himself. Phil wasn’t the source of this problem, Clint was the source of this problem; it just happened to include Phil which meant he couldn’t talk to him about it. He could see the recipe in his head: take no Natasha and no Phil, add in one upset and confused Clint, and you get a bad decision, again.

Clint’s head throbbed but he rolled out of bed and stood up, daring the hangover to try and make him fall down. In a fit of pique, he turned on every light in his apartment and blasted the radio. He’d earned this damn hangover, like he’d earned every mistake in his life, and he was going feel every painful bit of it; but he also poured himself a large glass of water and took two aspirin before heading to the bathroom. His eyes were bloodshot from drinking too much and combined with the almost three days growth of beard on his face, it made him look revoltingly like his father. He scowled at his reflection and took pains to shave himself well. He was not a drunk with shaking hands, he was Hawkeye, Agent of SHIELD. 

Shaved, showered, and fed, Clint felt more like himself; but still didn’t know what to do about Phil. He’d kissed the man and because of that they were both suspended. It was his fault that the best man he’d ever known was in trouble and damn if that didn’t make him feel worse than the hangover had. He hadn’t expected the punishment to be so severe, especially not for Phil. He had a perfect record and Clint had ruined that.

Clint’s stomach churned and he felt sick again. 

He owed Phil an apology, and, if he was lucky, a chance to beg forgiveness. Best case scenario was Phil had wanted him too, worst case scenario was Phil would never be able to forgive him. Working at SHIELD with a Phil Coulson who hated him would be worse than not working for SHIELD at all. Fuck the Director and his threats; the anxiety of not knowing what Phil thought about him was worse than any punishment Fury could dole out. 

He owed Phil an apology and he wasn’t going to be able to look himself in the mirror until he’d done it. It was the right thing to do so he was damn well going to do it; but, he was going to do it smart and not get caught.

Clint snuck out his window and casually made his way to the subway. He changed routes three times and took a roundabout way to Phil’s apartment building. He watched the whole area for twenty minutes before deciding that the building wasn’t under surveillance. But he still waited until he could use a loud group of maintenance workers arriving for the day as cover to sneak in. Two minutes later he knocked on Phil’s door.

Phil opened the door in a pair of casual jeans and a faded Captain America t-shirt that was a little too tight across the shoulders. He looked good, but his face was completely unreadable. 

Clint shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his shoes, this was going to be harder than he’d thought. But he was a man who poked at bruises until they finally went away and he didn’t believe in ignoring unpleasant truths. He looked up at Phil and gave him an awkward smile. “Hi ya, boss.”

Phil frowned at him slightly. “You shouldn’t be here, Barton.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “But I am.”

Phil sighed and stepped aside, motioning him in. “Come on in then.” 

Clint stepped in and looked around. “Nice place you got here.” It was very tidy and smelled faintly of cleaning products. It was large by New York standards with hardwood floors, a spacious kitchen with granite countertops, and a view of a small playground down the street. There wasn’t anything about it that especially said ‘Phil’ but it was nice.

“Thank you.” Phil shrugged. “I don’t spend much time here, but it’s home and the bed is more comfortable than the couch in my office.”

Clint knew what he needed to say, but just blurting it out felt wrong and now that he was inside he didn’t know what to do next. He’d known where Coulson lived because it just made sense to have that knowledge in case of an emergency, but he’d never been to Phil’s apartment before and didn’t really know what the protocols were for the first time visiting a friend’s home. Should he have brought a gift? It wasn’t something that had come up much in his life.

Phil gave him a reassuring smile. “Take off your shoes if you’re going to stay awhile and come on in. Would you like a drink?”

“Water would be great, thanks, sir.” Putting this off wasn’t going to make it any easier, but he needed this to be a private conversation and he felt on edge being in a strange place. 

Clint wandered over to the entertainment unit and was browsing the impressive collection of DVDs to play for time when inspiration struck. “Hey, I see you’ve got Star Trek V: The Final Frontier on DVD, that’s my favorite of the Star Trek movies, do you want to watch it?”

Coulson was at his side an instant later with a glass of water in one hand and a gun in the other, somewhat concealed under his shirt. “My apartment’s clean, Barton, no bugs or even SHIELD tech listening in, I checked the system myself this morning and nothing has triggered my alarms. What’s the situation?”

“I just need to talk.” Clint’s shoulders slumped. He knew he was massively overreacting but didn’t know what to do about it. “Sorry for breaking out the emergency code,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay,” Phil reassured. “It’s a code between us for when we don’t feel safe. Even off mission, if you don’t feel secure it’s okay to ask.” Phil’s tone became a little confused, “You know this, Barton.” He put the gun down on the table, handed Clint his glass of water, took his other hand, and led him over to the couch to sit down.

“Thanks, Phil.” Clint took a sip of his water. “Director Fury ordered me to stay away, practically threatened to fire me if I so much as looked at you while suspended, but I needed to apologize.” The words tumbled out in rush, “I kissed you in that warehouse and it’s my fault that you’re on suspension. You’re the SHIELD golden boy and now because of me you have a disciplinary record, and I need to apologize for that. I’m sorry, sir. I won’t let it happen again.”

Phil’s voice was so gentle when he responded that Clint felt himself letting some of the tension go before he even registered what Phil was saying. “Clint, it takes two to tango. If I hadn’t wanted to kiss you, I wouldn’t have and then this wouldn’t have happened. That action was my choice. We both knew better; but, as your S.O., it’s even more my responsibility than yours to make sure things like that don’t happen.” Phil started to let go of his hand, but Clint grabbed ahold of him and wouldn’t let go. Phil’s hand felt good in his. The skin soft and calloused by turns. He didn’t want to let go.

“Phil, if you still want to kiss me, we could make this work.” 

Clint licked his lips nervously. Aw hell, in for a penny in for a pound. “The truth is, I’ve wanted that for a very long time and I know there are rules against it because you’re my boss, but,” he tried to give Phil a cocky smile, “I think Strike Team Delta could find a way around that. If this isn’t what you want, then I will back off, but not knowing, that’s the worst, so please just be honest with me.”

Phil looked at Clint and took a moment to put his thoughts in order before replying, “We can’t have a relationship, Clint,” he smiled sadly, “but, since you asked for honesty, I will tell you that if things were different, I would very much want to have a relationship with you. At my level, the sexual misconduct charge is very serious and someone went over the Director’s head to report it to his boss with a specific request for my immediate dismissal. If Nick hadn’t intervened, they would have had very legitimate grounds to fire me. Until we know more about who it is that is trying to get rid of me, I have to toe the line. I think you’re right that we could probably sneak around and get away with it; and, to be completely transparent, before Nick gave me the details, I was hoping to try that. But under these circumstances, it’s not something I can risk.” Phil pulled his hand away again and this time Clint let him go. “I am sorry, Clint.” 

Clint felt some of the knots in his chest loosen. This was very far from his worst case scenario. He gave Phil a small smile and squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks for explaining. I can respect that.” He smirked a little to lighten the mood. “But don’t think I can’t hear the ‘security clearance levels I don’t have’ that you’re talking around.”

Phil shrugged and gave him a small smile. “You know how it is, Barton.”

“I do. But if things ever change, let me know? I’m not going to wait around pining or anything, just, in the name of fairness, however things stand, if the issue I don’t have clearance to know about changes, promise to tell me?”

Phil’s eyes went wide and he hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “This situation is probably going to take a few years to resolve, and when it’s time, you’ll know something is going down whether I say anything or not. But if you’re sure that’s what you want, however things stand, I’ll promise to have this conversation with you again.”

Clint smiled and stuck out his hand to shake. “Well, until then, friends?” 

Phil laughed in surprise but he grasped his hand and shook, “Friends.”

Clint lay down to stretch out on his part of the couch, just like he usually did in Coulson’s office. “So what’s your plan for today, boss? Not often you get two days where you can’t work and aren’t unconscious in medical at the same time.”

Phil looked around his spotlessly clean apartment, at his desk that was completely devoid of SHIELD related work and finally back to Clint. “I literally have no idea,” he said sounding bemused.

Clint sat back up quickly and gave him a great big grin. “Well it’s a good thing you’ve got me around then! You have a beautiful kitchen, I have a burning desire to try a recipe for roast duck with orange sauce, and neither of us has anything we have to do today.”

Phil raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You have a burning desire to cook?”

“Oh the skills I have that are not listed on my SHIELD dossier… actually that’s probably the only one, unless my ability to line dance counts? Natasha mocks it, but it’s harder than it looks.”

The edges of Phil’s mouth twitched upwards, “I’ll be sure to rectify the oversight when we’re back at work. And considering my plans were probably going to include ordering in pizza, your plan sounds much more appetizing.”

“You’re gonna have to work for it,” he teased.

“Oh?”

“Yep, I’m no hired help, I’m aware that your culinary skills are limited to the ability to heat up MREs,” he smirked at Phil, “and if we’re being honest sometimes you even do that badly. But today you’re going to make a real meal; and, if you’re very good,” he winked, “I’ll even make us some chocolate orange fudge for dessert.”

***********************************

One grocery shopping trip later, they were standing side-by-side in the kitchen. Clint was melting chocolate on the stove and Phil was methodically chopping vegetables into equal sized pieces.

“It’s absolutely criminal that you have a double oven and are most likely to use it to heat two frozen dishes at the same time,” Clint mused. 

Phil was puzzled. “Since when do you love to cook?”

“Hmmm. Well I guess it started in the circus. I was only nine, so I was too young to be much help, but Barney was fifteen and strong enough to be useful, so he took care of both of us. He did good, and it worked, for a while. I tried to be helpful where I could and they put me to work cooking with Miranda. She’d been one of the acrobats until she shattered her arm, but she’d also been the default cook and everyone liked her, so even after the injury she stayed as the cook.

“She kind of took me under her wing and made me her sous chef; I guess that’s where I first learned to work with a knife.” He casually flipped his knife up in the air, caught it, and continued chopping the nuts. “Anyway, the food wasn’t fun, it was almost always stew of some kind but we had lots of mouths to feed and it worked. She showed me how to find wild herbs; and whenever we entered a new town, even before the circus was set up, we would sneak off to gather what was growing wild to add flavor to the stew.”

Clint stirred the extra ingredients in with the melted chocolate and hummed to himself. “There, we’re good.” He passed the dish to Phil. “Put this in the fridge and I’ll get started with the duck sauce.” 

Clint had put Phil in charge of chopping the vegetables, but in the ten minutes he had been working he’d peeled and chopped a total of two carrots and one sweet potato into perfectly-even pieces. Clint suspected, if he measured them, each piece would be almost exactly equal. It was very Phil Coulson how precise he was being, but it wasn’t a very effective cooking technique. “Phil, it’s okay if the veggies are little uneven, they are going to bake for a long time anyways. You really don’t cook much do you?”

Phil shrugged. “It never really came up as a life skill. I lived at home where my mom cooked, I enrolled in the army where I ate in the mess, I was recruited to SHIELD where I worked twelve-hour days and ate in the cafeteria. Now I can buy pretty much anything I want in a can; and, if I want something nice, I go out or order in.”

Clint just looked at him. “You have no idea how alien your life sounds to me sometimes.”

“I know.” He smiled, “But the nice thing about SHIELD is most of the people at our level have life stories that sound a little alien.”

“Maybe that’s why we fit,” Clint mused. “Anyway, after I left the circus, those skills came in handy and even in the city you can find wild herbs, so even at my lowest, if I just had a tin of old stew, adding a bit of rosemary for flavor would help, or if I had piece of stale bread, steaming it over rose water could make it almost tasty. Stuff like that made a difference. After I joined SHIELD, well I didn’t have a lot to do with my spare time or anything I really needed to spend my money on, so I bought some real cookbooks and started practicing. It gave me something to do and it’s so methodical, I can zone out while I work and then afterward, I have delicious food and I feel less stressed.”

“You’re amazing,” Phil said quietly. “Just when I think I know you, I find out something that completely surprises me.”

Clint looked down at the duck and busied himself with checking the strings. “It’s just food Phil, jeez. You make a big deal out of the strangest things.” He was sure his ears were turning pink.

“I’m not the one who spent two hours in the ancient archery exhibit at the museum in Rome and the rest of the afternoon and evening talking about it...” teased Phil.

Clint didn’t miss a beat. “No, you are the one who spent all afternoon at the Captain America comic book exhibit in Japan, even though you’d seen all those displays at the original larger exhibit right here in New York…”

They bantered back and forth as Clint cooked and Phil followed his directions and set the table. It felt like no time at all before dinner was ready and Clint was bringing out his masterpiece. Phil poured them both a glass of wine and said very nice things about the food. The duck was a perfect golden brown and he said it was better than food he ordered in restaurants; but Clint thought the sauce was a bit too bitter and said as much. Phil laughed kindly at him and Clint poured him another glass of wine while they finished enjoying their dinner. It was a very complimentary wine but, after last night, Clint was happy just to sip it.

“That was amazing, Clint.” Phil gave a sigh of contentment, “You realize from now on you’re on food duty on all our missions right?”

“Nope!” said Clint playfully. “Cooking like this is something I do for fun. It’s nice for me to have something that I do outside of work. When I have time, I’ll happily cook for Nat, or now you too, but it’ll be like this, at home, relaxed, where we can have fun and play cards or watch a movie or something.”

Phil scrunched up his nose and made a face, “I’m not playing cards with Black Widow and Hawkeye, that sounds like a quick way to lose face,” Phil made a haphazard gesture up and down his chest before bursting into giggles, “and probably my shirt too.”

Clint laughed, “Well, it’s true, when we play we both cheat, but since we’re both cheating we figure it balances out.”

Phil smiled and refilled both their wine glasses. “So cards are off the table. How about a movie?”

“Hmm, what do you have?”

“Pretty much anything in the superhero, sci-fi, or fantasy genre. But if there is something else you want I can probably buy it online pretty fast.”

Clint shook his head and gave him a fond smile, “You don’t need to buy me a movie, Phil, it’s not a date. How about Princess Bride?”

“Of course!” and Clint laughed to see Phil gleefully jump up out of his seat and instantly find it in his collection of hundreds of movies.

“That was fast. One of your favorites?” He teased.

“Yes… but I also have my movies alphabetised to make them easier to find.”

“Of course you do,” chuckled Clint as he poured the last of the bottle of wine into their glasses and brought them over to the living room area.

Partway through the movie Clint brought out the fudge and Phil traded their wine glasses for smaller glasses to go with the ice wine he’d picked to compliment the dessert. They laughed through the movie, quoted lines at each other, and stayed quiet during the best parts.

At the end Clint sighed. “That is one hell of kiss.”

Phil looked over at Clint and smiled a little wistfully, “Ours was better.”

Clint suddenly felt very awake. “Ours was shorter,” he said carefully.

“Too short,” breathed Phil. “I know it couldn’t have gone anywhere, but I wish the team had taken a bit longer to get there.” Phil was leaning ever so slightly towards Clint.

Clint’s heart was racing. “We could,” Clint licked his lips and tried again, “We could… just this once…” He saw Phil’s eyes focus on his mouth and watched as, unconsciously, his tongue mimicked the action on his own lips.

“Just this once?” asked Phil.

“We are getting an awful lot of punishment for a kiss that barely happened.” He couldn’t stop looking at Phil’s lips and remembering that kiss. It was frightening how badly he wanted more.

Phil huffed, “That’s terrible logic, Barton.” but he kept leaning closer.

“Well how about this then,” he said desperately. “Right now there is no one around to see. If it’s going to be a while before we have a chance at this, how about we try again and see what happens when we aren’t interrupted?” Clint stayed very still. “Say the word and I’ll back off, but right now, the idea of kissing you again? Hell Phil, it has me so hard in my pants I would say anything for the chance to touch you again, but you’ve had a lot of wine and I need to know you want it too and that you aren’t going to regret it tomorrow morning.”

Phil licked his lips again. “Clint, if I start kissing you, I know I’m not going to want to stop.” Clint could hear the desire in Phil’s voice and it just added to the desire already burning inside him, but he didn’t let himself close the last few inches between them. He needed to be sure this was Phil’s choice. Phil continued, “I’m sober enough to know it’s a bad idea, but the idea of waiting years, or possibly never having more than that one kiss, that idea’s worse. We’re both going into this knowing it’s just tonight and possibly tomorrow.” He was so close Clint could feel the heat from Phil’s breath. “But because I never want to hurt you, I need to know you’ll be okay with that and not push for more. You have to trust me, I’m doing this to keep us both safe.”

Clint’s words tumbled over themselves in a rush to get out. “I agree. We both know it’s going to suck, but not doing it would be worse.”

“This is still a bad idea,” whispered Phil.

“I know,” said Clint. “But I specialize in bad ideas so that’s okay and I really want to feel your lips against mine again.”

Phil tentatively closed the final inch between them and the feel of Clint’s lips brushing against his sparked his burning desire into an inferno. “Fuck it,” cursed Phil. He crushed their lips together and pushed Clint back down on the couch, covering him with his body. 

Clint moaned into Phil’s mouth, kissing him back all hot need and soft gasps. Having Phil on top of him felt like everything he’d always wanted. He tasted like fudge and wine and all the good things Clint had dreamt about his whole life but never thought could be his. Phil’s breath was hot against Clint’s neck and his fierce kisses became gentle nips across his jaw line, and the softest little sucks and licks down his neck that made Clint arch his back seeking more. 

Phil whispered half to himself, “I thought I must have dreamt how good it felt to kiss you,” before claiming Clint’s mouth again, this time with a gentle kiss that caressed every angle of his lips and slowly licked his way inside to taste and tease, only stopping to come up for air, “never imagined it could be even better than I remember.” 

Clint wrapped his arms around Phil and pulled him down for another kiss. Phil smiled into the kiss with a satisfied sigh and relaxed into his archer’s embrace. If he was only going to have this once, he was going to enjoy and savor every moment and every touch. 

Clint was drowning in Phil’s kisses and touches. After years of watching and wanting, to actually feel and touch was such a heady sensation; his gentle touches made Clint shiver and gasp, and his hungry kisses left Clint dizzy and desperate for more. 

Phil molded his whole body against Clint’s so there was no place where they didn’t touch and Clint gasped at the first contact and sensation of weight against his cock. Then Clint had both of his hands on Phil’s hips, pinning their bodies together as he thrust himself up against him.

Phil groaned wantonly into the contact and his languid exploratory kisses became hungry in a way that made Clint want to promise anything in the world to make him keep going. Phil ground down against Clint; every shift of his hips sent lightning jolts of sensation through Clint’s cock and every thrust of Clint’s hips made Phil gasp and grind harder back into him until it was all they could do to desperately rut against each other. Clint tried to paw at Phil’s shirt, he wanted him naked, he wanted more, but cognitive thought and words were lost to him as he desperately sought out more friction and kisses. 

Phil rolled his hips against Clint and his whimpering noise sent a jolt of desire through Phil that just made him fuck down harder against him. “Oh God, Clint,” he gasped, “a few more minutes and I’ll come just from this.” Phil had to remind himself to breathe and it was an act of will to pull himself away from the breathtaking sight of Clint lying beneath him. 

Phil pushed himself up and pulled Clint up with him so they were both standing beside the couch. “But I want more than just this,” said Phil. He braced his hand against Clint’s shoulder to keep their bodies apart, and leaned in to kiss him again, gentle this time. He licked Clint’s lips and kept up a soft pressure while he swirled their tongues together and filled the kiss with promises and sweet longing. “Clint, you are so damn beautiful. You take my breath away. I want to take my time with you. Make tonight worth it for you.” 

Clint’s brain was fuzzy with want and overwhelmed with the idea that Phil wanted to make tonight special for him. He couldn’t even come up with words to say, so he just nodded. Phil took his hand and led him to the bedroom where he turned the lights on low. 

Clint started to pull his shirt off but Phil stopped him, “No, let me-- please?” Wordlessly Clint nodded again and let Phil sit him down on the foot of the bed. “You’re so gorgeous, Clint. The hours I’ve spent watching you on the range, the number of times I’ve fantasized about this; I never thought it would really happen.”

Phil carded his hand through Clint’s hair and let his hands roam over his face and his neck before he started exploring Clint’s skin again with his mouth. He kissed Clint’s forehead, his eyebrows, kissed every part of his face before making his way back to his lips and kissing him again. “I want to taste you everywhere. Is that okay?”

“So very okay,” said Clint in a hushed tone.

“Good. I want to make this good for you.” Phil slowly stripped Clint trying to touch and kiss him everywhere as he went; he took an especially long time caressing and kissing his arms. “I’ve never known a man with arms like yours.” Clint flexed a little and Phil moaned. He needed to taste every dent and contour of Clint’s incredible arms and to map every inch of his skin with his mouth. “Damn, Clint, someday in the next few long, and very dry, years I’m going remember this moment while jerking off, and just thinking about this is going to make me come all over myself.”

The wanton image of Phil running his own hand over his throbbing cock while thinking of Clint flashed through Clint’s mind like a lightning bolt and before he knew what he was doing he was saying, “Fuck, Phil!” and yanking him up to kiss him hard. “You can’t just say things like that! What do you think I am, made of stone? You’re still fully dressed and I’m already halfway to begging you to fuck me.” 

Phil returned the kiss with a fervor that left them both panting.

“You can get your chance to undress me, Cl--”

“Good,” interrupted Clint. “Let’s start that part now.” He pulled Phil down onto the bed beside him and wasted no time getting his shirt off and running his hands all over Phil’s chest and arms. He licked and nibbled at his neck and chest, not pausing anywhere for too long until Phil moaned and arched up into his mouth when he reached his nipples. Then he spent ages learning what made him respond. Phil enjoyed licks and gentle scratches, but shied away from actual nips with his teeth; however, when Clint blew lightly on them, they pebbled up beautifully and Phil whimpered. 

Clint kissed his way back up to Phil’s ear and whispered, “I bet you’d love ice play.” He lowered his voice as if confessing a secret. “For that someday in the future Phil, remember this.” Then he brushed his fingers gently over Phil’s nipples. “I could suck on your nipples, tease them with my tongue, get you all hot and bothered, then suddenly brush an ice cube across them, maybe even hold it there for a few seconds so they start to tingle and freeze, before I put my hot mouth back on them.” Phil whimpered and tried to arch his back and thrust his hips up, desperate for more contact. “You’d like that wouldn’t you, babe?” 

“Oh God,” Phil moaned, “You’re killing me!” Clint smirked and rubbed his hands slowly down Phil’s chest.

“Your turn, babe. You want to get these pants off me?”

“I’m never going to be able to look at an ice cube the same way again.” Phil groaned then pinned Clint to the bed with a hungry kiss.

“Fuck you and your fucking ice play.” He growled and fucked Clint’s mouth with his tongue, mapping out every crevice and burning it into his memory. 

Clint smirked up at him and teased, “I wonder where else you’d like them?” Phil’s eyes went wide and he made strangled noise, before shoving his body on top of Clint’s to crush their lips together and roughly grinding his cock against Clint’s. Gasping between kisses he groaned “God, you’ve got a fucking dirty mouth on you don’t you, Barton?”

“Just call ‘em like I see ‘em, Coulson.” Then he winked, “If you put something in my mouth I probably wouldn’t talk so much.”

“You’d like that?” Phil’s voice was husky with desire, “You want to suck me off before I fuck you?”

Clint licked his lips. “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s get you out of those damn jeans.” Clint made quick work of Phil’s clothes and soon had him naked and splayed out on the bed before him. Phil’s cock was already an angry red and dripping and he didn’t waste any time getting his mouth on Phil. Clint swallowed him down as much as he could and swirled his tongue all around.

Phil cried out and arched his back, “Oh holy fuck, Clint! Oh my God, Oh my God!” Clint felt Phil’s cock throbbing in his mouth and twitching enthusiastically each time he licked at the sensitive head. In no time at all Phil was yanking on his hair, trying to pull him up. “Oh God, Clint, please, you have to stop, oh God, oh God, I’m so close. Please Clint, please!” Clint gave a very loud slurp and sucked hard as he pulled off Phil’s cock agonizingly slowly, one centimeter at a time.

Clint could feel his own cock aching in his pants, but it was nothing compared to Phil’s which was twitching frantically and oozing precome. Phil had grabbed on the sheets and was fisting them madly in an effort not to reach down and finish himself off. Breathlessly he panted, “Oh Christ almighty, just give me a minute, Barton. God, that mouth of yours. So dirty. So good. Should be classified as a lethal weapon, holy fucking hell.”

Clint palmed himself through his jeans, Christ but that man was putting on a show, hands fisting the sheets, hips thrusting up, red kiss swollen lips, and that beautiful throbbing cock. “Please tell me you’re ready to fuck me, Phil,” he rasped

“Oh God, yes, please. I’ll get the lube.” 

Phil did the most inelegant scramble that Clint had ever seen from him, as he rushed to get the supplies from his bedside table drawer and Clint couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “I’ll just undress myself the rest of the way, shall I?”

Phil’s voice was husky when he responded, “The more naked you are, the faster I’ll get in you.”

By the time Phil turned around Clint was laid out on his bed, his head propped up with one arm and his other hand provocatively stroking his body from his well-muscled chest, down his defined abs, to the hair around his engorged dick. He winked at Phil and tried to keep his voice light and teasing but it came out dark and hungry, “I’m waiting for you.”

Phil was all animalistic need as he pushed himself partially on top of Clint and forcefully claimed his mouth again. “God you are a fucking menace, Barton,” he growled when he regained some control of himself, one hand already slick with lube as he started to tease Clint’s hole. 

Clint groaned. He wanted this so badly. 

Phil put one finger in, quickly followed by a second. “Eager aren’t you?” Phil purred.

Clint was pushing back on Phil’s hand. “I’ve wanted this for so long, hell yes I’m eager!”

Phil put in a third finger and searched around for his prostate. “Tell me how you want to be, I want to make this good for you.”

“On my back, so I can see you.” Phil grazed his prostate and Clint screamed “Oh fuck yeah, right there babe! Please don’t make me wait and longer. I’m ready, I promise!” he begged.

Phil rearranged them so Clint had pillows under his back and lifted his leg for easier access. “You look like a wet dream,” he breathed. He quickly rolled the condom on and lined himself up to push inside Clint. He forced himself to go slowly as Clint’s slick heat engulfed his throbbing cock. “Christ, but you feel good, Clint, so hot, so tight, so beautiful, so eager.” He started thrusting. Each stroke pushing him closer to the edge. 

“Oh God, I can’t believe you’re in my bed.” He fought against the urge to pound his cock into the man beneath him. He needed to go slow to make it last. His voice was strangled with desire, “Tell me what you need.” 

Clint moaned, “Oh babe, all you’d have to do is touch me.” Phil shifted his angle a bit, he wanted to hear Clint cry out again. It took two more tries before he found his prostate and Clint cried out his name. “Phil! Oh fuck yes. Oh, please touch me, I’m so ready, I want you to make me come. I want to come all over you!”

Phil gave up the struggle and started fucking him in earnest. He grabbed Clint’s cock tightly and began to stroke him off in time with his own passionate thrusts. It only took a few strokes before Clint gave a wordless cry and came all over them both. The sight of Clint in ecstasy, under him, in his bed, pushed Phil over the edge and it felt like shockwaves pulsing out from his cock through his whole body, like an electrical charge that ran under all of his skin and made his toes curl.

Clint was the first to be able to form words again. “C’mere babe,” he mumbled, “I wanna kiss you again.”

Phil felt like he was living a dream, Clint Barton, beneath him, in his bed, asking him for more kisses. He lay himself down beside Clint and pulled him close for a soft languid kiss. He whispered, “You are incredible, Clint.” And then kissed him again, slow and open-mouthed, tasting every bit of him and enjoying the sense of peace settling over him.

Clint gave a contented hum. “You weren’t so bad yourself, Phil.” He kissed Phil again but the sweet kiss was interrupted by a big yawn and Clint chuckled softly. “But if it’s all the same to you, I think I’m going to fall asleep now.”

Phil couldn’t stop himself from smiling, he was going to sleep with Clint Barton in his bed tonight and who knew what could happen in the morning. He gave Clint a soft peck, “Let me just clean us up first.”

Clint half mumbled a something that sounded like, “Okay, but I’m gonna go to sleep.” And Phil got up to go grab a washcloth. Clint made adorable pouty sounds when Phil moved away from him, and if the idea of sleeping covered in lube and come wasn’t quite so gross, he would have gotten right back into bed to make those sad noises go away. But as it was, he just moved quickly. He threw out the condom, wiped down a mostly-sleeping Clint, cleaned himself off, and then joined Clint back in bed; he was rewarded with a happy hum from his archer who soon had his head resting on Phil’s shoulder and an arm thrown over his chest. Phil was so happy he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but the wine, the sex, the comfort of Clint in his arms, and the sound of his soft breathing soon lulled him into dreams.

*****************************

Phil dreamt about having Clint in his bed and it was a good dream. He was spooning Clint, who felt so good in his arms. He softly nuzzled and kissed his neck. The rough stubble surprised him and his brain woke up enough to realize this wasn’t a dream -- Clint really was naked in his bed. He remembered the previous evening and his already-interested cock came to full attention, then he remembered the previous day and reality came crashing down on his morning afterglow. He let go of Clint and started to move away -- Clint might not want this the morning after, they hadn’t talked about it, and he didn’t want to push. But sleepy Clint didn’t have any patience for cautious Phil.

“No.” Clint’s voice was rough with morning sleep and pouty the way only someone who hasn’t woken up enough to censor themselves can be. “I like the cuddles, Phil,” he mumbled. He was very insistent on the word 'like' and he backed up the statement by reaching back to pull Phil’s arm around him again. Clint hummed contentedly and shuffled himself closer so they were spooning together again and touching skin to skin all the way from their shoulders to their feet. Phil’s erection hadn’t gone anywhere and was pressing very firmly against Clint’s ass. Clint purposely wiggled his butt against it a bit more and said in a slightly more awake and teasing tone, “hmm, someone’s happy to see me…”

Phil smiled into Clint’s hair and returned the wiggle with one of his own. “Good morning to you too, Clint.” 

Clint gave a happy little sigh. “It is a good morning, isn’t it?” He craned his neck sideways to give Phil a quick kiss on the lips.

Phil returned the kiss and then went back to nuzzling Clint’s neck. “I thought I was dreaming when I woke up with you in my bed,” he said in between little kisses.

Clint hummed contentedly in response to the little kisses on his neck. “You have that dream often, sir?”

Phil was grateful for the darkness that hid his blush. “Remember that op in Trinidad?”

It took a minute for Clint’s sleep-addled brain to follow what Phil was talking about, but when he did he burst into a big belly laugh, “That’s why you fell out of bed in morning?”

“I was so mortified when Natasha burst in.”

Still laughing, Clint rolled over to face Phil. “She thought we’d been attacked and you told her it was a cockroach the size of a rat that startled you before you’d had your coffee.” Clint paused in his laughing to kiss him sweetly. “What was it that really startled you?”

“Well it was a small bed…”

“And we all agreed to share… partially because of the giant cockroaches that swarmed that floor at night.” Clint shuddered at the memory.

“Yes, well, you tend to cuddle in your sleep.”

“Hmm. yes. Known fact about me. If I trust you enough to sleep in the same bed as you, odds are I’ll cuddle you in my sleep.” Clint kissed him again, and tried to deepen the kiss, but Phil refused to part his lips.

Phil huffed and gave Clint another quick-closed mouth peck. “That’s all you’re getting until we’ve brushed our teeth.” But he made no move to get up and even as he said it he tucked his head into the crook of Clint’s neck and pulled him closer.

Clint thought snuggling, naked Phil in the morning was definitely going on his top five things to do, ever, and was worth giving up a few kisses for a while. “So what actually happened that morning?”

Phil was more than a little embarrassed to be actually telling someone this story, but doing it with a consenting and naked Clint cuddled in his arms helped more than a little. “I may have woken up with an inappropriate erection that I had been rubbing up against your hip in my sleep.”

Clint chuckled warmly and nipped playfully at Phil’s neck. “It’s too bad I didn’t wake up sooner, I would have had a pretty enthusiastic response to that.”

“Because that wouldn’t have been awkward with Natasha ten feet away and drug dealers downstairs,” Phil deadpanned.

“We could have been quiet…”

Phil huffed a laugh, “After last night, I really don’t believe that,” and, careful never to leave a mark, Phil continued to lick and kiss Clint’s neck. Sometimes moving up to suck on his earlobe, sometimes nipping at his pulse point just to feel Clint shudder.

Clint seemed content to let Phil explore, his breath catching when Phil found a sensitive spot and his hips slowly starting to rub their cocks together. “Last night was pretty amazing,” he said softly.

“It was,” agreed Phil. His kisses had explored all the way down to Clint’s shoulder and he was taking his time to touch and taste every inch of skin. “Is there anything you wish we’d done differently?”

Clint tried not to be amused by Phil treating even sex as an op, but he couldn’t quite keep the humor out of his voice. “No boss, two men, two orgasms, I’d say that’s the result we were going for.” Then, just slightly more serious, he continued, “Why, is there something you wish we’d done differently?”

“Well, I wish we’d talked just a little bit more. You mentioned begging me to fuck you, so I assumed that was what you wanted, but I should have asked.” Phil’s hands were massaging Clint’s arm, taking the time to touch every bit before his mouth followed, kissing and tasting his way down the well-defined muscles. “Which do you prefer?”

Phil had earned a reputation for attention to detail surpassing any known agent and, as Phil’s asset, Clint had always appreciated that skill. But now. Now he was discovering just how amazing that skill was in a lover. Without going near the usual erogenous zones, Phil was already making Clint start to feel a little breathless. 

“Honestly, I like both, but at that particular moment, yeah, I wanted you to fuck me. You seemed happy enough to go along with it so I didn’t question it. Which do you prefer?

Phil had reached Clint’s hands now and was paying special attention to his fingers, sucking each one into his mouth to roll his tongue around them, getting them very wet before sucking them dry, occasionally teasing, with a hint of teeth gently scratching against Clint’s callouses, and always kissing the fingertip before moving on to the next finger. “I prefer to top, but occasionally, with a partner I trust, I can also enjoy being the bottom. I haven’t done it in a long time, but, if you’re interested, I would like to do that with you this morning.”

“Oh God, Phil!” Clint moaned, “Can I rim you too? I’d love to get my mouth on you and make you just fall apart under me before fucking you.” Clint could feel Phil’s cock twitch against his leg and Phil’s voice cracked a bit when he responded.

“Yes, okay, let’s do that. But showers first.”

One long teasing shower, where Clint had spent ages stretching him out, later; Phil was lying face down on the bed with a pillow under his hips, and Clint was really enjoying the view. He rubbed his hands up the back of Phil's thighs, massaging the muscles in his legs until he reached his ass. “You have a great ass, Phil. I’m really going to enjoy this.” He bent down and started just kissing his ass, then licking it and slowly making his way closer to his asshole. “Have you thought about me doing this before?”

“Mmmm, not this specifically, no,” said Phil contentedly.

Clint stroked a finger across his puckered sphincter. “What have you thought about?”

“I have thought about you topping me.” Clint tongued his ass and Phil gasped in surprise before he moaned, “Ohhhh fuck! Yes, do that again!” Clint gave it another long wet lick and Phil moaned again.

“Phil darling,” teased Clint, “is this the first time anyone’s ever given you a rim job?”

“Arrrhhh no!” Phil panted, “Please, do that again, please!” Clint put some extra spit into it and did it fast this time, swirling his tongue in circles, being sure to lick every crevice. “It’s just…. oh fuck, yeah, it’s just never felt like this before. Fuck!”

“Hmmm. Well I want to this for a while then, make sure you get the full,” he paused to give it another lick and was rewarded with another moan, “the full experience. But let’s make it a game. I’ll keep giving you what you want.” He gave a teasing lick, just around the edge of his sphincter, avoiding the very sensitive nerves. “For as long as you keep talking.”

Phil shifted his ass up higher, seeking more contact, and gasped, “What do you want me to talk about?”

Clint firmed his tongue and gave a sharp poke right in the center of Phil’s asshole. “You said you thought about me fucking you. What did you think about?” Phil moaned and rubbed his hard cock against the pillow. “I’m waiting…” teased Clint.

“Your arms!” Clint rewarded him with another wet lick and didn’t stop this time. He used his hands to gently pull Phil’s ass cheeks apart and then started to aggressively tongue his ass with long wet licks, up and down, back and forth, poking it in the center, rolling it around in circles, lubing him up with spit until he was sopping with it and dripping down onto his balls. 

Phil writhed against him, trying to get more from his tongue and grinding his cock against the pillow. “Oh holy fuck, Clint! I dreamed about you lifting me up and fucking me.” Clint brought his fingers into it and started to tease his ass, pushing a finger against his opening without ever actually putting it inside. “Sometimes I’d wrap my legs around your waist and you’d push my shoulders up against the wall, and you’d hold me up with your incredible--” Clint’s fingers pulled him just a little further apart and suddenly his tongue was in deeper than it had ever been before. Phil broke off in a strangled cry and started frantically rubbing his leaking cock against the pillow beneath him. 

His precome had slicked the fabric enough that he could fuck into it and slide a little. The hot sticky mess he was making should not have been turning him on even more... but the feel of the rough fabric and the natural lube was almost enough to get him off. He just needed a little more... but Clint’s hands on his hips were pinning him in place and he couldn’t move enough. “Oh please, Clint, just fuck me! Please!” Clint hummed and gave it another wet lick before gently blowing cool air across it.

Phil lost his words and just moaned helplessly into the pillow. He tried to thrust his ass up higher, wordlessly begging Clint for more, for anything. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to be fucked. He wanted Clint’s cock in him, splitting him open and finally pushing him over the tantalizing edge of pleasure that felt so close but also so far out of reach. He used what little movement he had to thrust back into Clint’s mouth and to fuck himself on his pillow. He was so close, if Clint just wrapped a hand around his cock, a few strokes were all it would take. He desperately needed it, but he also wanted more. He wanted to wait for Clint to pound into him, fucking his orgasm out of him. 

He tried to tell Clint he was close, to beg him for more but all that came out was a desperate whimper.

Clint chuckled darkly in response and hauled the man up by his shoulders so they were both kneeling on the bed, Clint’s cock pressed up against Phil’s ass and Phil’s cock pointing straight out in front of him, rock hard and dripping precome into the wet mess on the bed. Clint nipped at his ear and whispered, “Imagine if I had one of those ice cubes to play with there too. I could tease it all around the outside before sliding it inside you.” Clint started rocking his hips against Phil’s ass and his voice became more husky. “Then I’d fuck you and you’d have my hot cock and the cold ice inside you at the same time.”

Phil ground his ass back against Clint, already close to begging, “Oh God! Please fuck me, Clint. I’m already so close, but I need to feel you inside me.”

Clint growled, “After the show you just put on, I’m not going to last long, so you better be close.” Clint surprised Phil by flipping them over so Clint was lying on his back and Phil was straddling him. Clint rolled the condom on, added lots of lube, and positioned himself under Phil. His voice was tight, “I’m glad we got you ready in the shower. You ready?”

“Just waiting for--” Phil lost his ability to speak again when Clint suddenly thrust himself into him. It felt so good. After what seemed like hours of teasing, to finally feel Clint inside him was almost too much.

Clint moaned, “Oh god you’re so hot and tight! Fuck, Phil, you feel so good.” Phil took a moment to get used to being filled, then eased himself up and started to get into a steady rhythm. 

Looking up, Clint could see Phil’s blissed out expression, head tilted back, eyes closed, all his attention focused on the physical pleasure he was feeling. Clint had never seen Phil look like that before and it was simultaneously the most erotic and beautiful sight he had ever seen. 

“Oh fuck babe, you’re so sexy, c’mere.” He pulled gently at Phil’s shoulder to guide him down and Phil’s eyes fluttered open just before Clint closed his to kiss him. Clint let Phil set the pace. Angled the way they were, Phil couldn’t get much leverage, but his shallow thrusts were rubbing his prostate, and each stroke was driving him closer to the edge.

“Oh Clint, you feel so good!” Phil drowned the rest of his words in another kiss. Clint’s lips were the softest thing he’d ever felt and so tantalizing to taste. Every kiss felt unique and he never wanted to stop discovering his infinite types of kisses. 

Phil’s movements started to get more frantic, but just when he was starting to crest that peak, Clint gripped his hips to slow him down and stopped him once he bottomed out. 

“Not yet, babe, I want to try something.” He got a strong hold on Phil’s hips, and flexed his arms to heave Phil up -- lifting him halfway off his cock before slamming him back down. Phil eyes went wide and gave a strangled cry as he reached down to grab his own cock. “Oh my god Clint, you’re like Captain America with those arms. No human should be able to do that!” Clint did it again and Phil started jerking his cock hard and fast. “Ohhh Clint, I’m close, I’m going to-- fuck I’m coming!”

“That’s right babe, you’re going to come riding my cock!” He lifted Phil again and felt him clench down on Clint’s cock as he dropped him down again he came all over Clint’s chest. The hot pulsing around Clint’s throbbing cock pushed him over the edge and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He fucked up into Phil’s ass with fast desperate thrusts to ride out his earth shattering orgasm.

Phil had never had an orgasm ripped out him like that and he was so sensitive he whimpered as Clint continued to fuck him hard and fast -- but he wanted the pain. He clung to it and prayed he’d never forget every stretch and burn and oversensitive stroke. It was killing him that he might never have this again and it made even the pain something he wanted to cherish and never forget.

Clint was always going to remember the look on Phil’s face as he came: his face going slack, mouth falling open and the sweetest little whimper that he almost couldn’t hear. It drove him over the edge and the last thought he had before his orgasm blanked his mind of all logical thought was, ‘He’s so fucking perfect.’ 

As Phil came down and started to breathe again he rested his forehead on Clint’s shoulder. “Oh my God, Clint. That’s was amazing.” He was still panting a little. “I’ve never come like that from being fucked before.”

Clint smiled up at him. “We’ll you’ve never been fucked by someone with arms like mine before. I think they might be a bit of a turn on for you.”

“Christ, Clint, you have no idea.”

Clint ran a finger through the come splattered on his chest and brought it up to his mouth to taste. “I think I might have some idea,” he teased.

He pulled Phil in for a kiss. “Let’s make a promise, Phil,” he whispered. “Let’s promise that this will just be between us.” He gave Phil the gentlest of kisses. “I know we’re only human and there are going to be other people, but I’m not going to top again, not until it’s with you.”

“Oh, Clint,” Phil sounded half-wrecked and he stroked Clint’s face. “I can’t let you make that promise. We don’t know how long it will be before the Situation is resolved and,” Phil’s voice cracked, “this has been so much more than I ever dreamt I could have.” Phil murmured, “Let lips do what palms do” and kissed him softly, “I give you your promise back again”. Then he closed his eyes and pressed their lips together again so he could savor the beautiful man in his arms one more time, and so Clint couldn’t see the grief he couldn’t hide. But Hawkeye doesn’t miss much and Clint didn’t bring it up again.

They stayed in bed together, breathing together and trading slow kisses as they both came down from the orgasm high. Clint rubbed his hand in circles on Phil’s back and after a few minutes, to break the silence, he said, “How about we get some breakfast? I think I could make some version of my famous espresso pancakes from what you have in that half-stocked room you call a kitchen.”

Phil chuckled softly, “You have famous espresso pancakes?”


	4. The Morning After

Maybe it was the years of partnership, or the many away missions they’d been on together, but they moved around the kitchen perfectly in sync. Clint was dressed in a pair of Phil’s track pants and a shirt that Phil knew did not look that good when he wore it. It’s also possible it was distracting him a little; but, if there’s one thing Phil Coulson could do in his sleep it was make coffee, so the distraction wasn’t really an issue. 

Clint gathered the ingredients he needed, occasionally asking Phil where he kept something. He seemed mostly content with what he found, the only key ingredient Phil was missing was buttermilk, but it turned out Clint knew how to make buttermilk out of the heavy cream Phil bought in bulk for his coffee, so the rest was easy.

Phil made the coffee and Clint made the batter. Phil set the table while Clint prepared the glaze. They worked around each other easily, and when they both reached for the fridge Clint took advantage of their closeness to dart in and steal a quick kiss that left Phil’s lips tingling.

It’d been years since Phil had had someone to make breakfast with, and it had never felt like this before. It had always felt like he was playing host -- performing to keep his guest entertained and comfortable. With Clint it felt like he was sharing his home, like this is what Saturday morning breakfast should always be: just him and Clint, moving around each other, never in each other’s way because if they shared the same space it was an excuse to touch or kiss. 

It reminded him of how his parents had been with each other; made him want to call his sister and invite Clint over for Christmas. It made remembering that this was never going to happen again hurt like a gunshot wound to the chest -- and he knew exactly how much those hurt.

Clint asked Phil to flip the pancakes while he finished whipping together the glaze; but not a moment later he sidled up behind Phil and wrapped his arms around him to show Phil how to do it right. 

Even after the demonstration, it took Phil three tries because, although he has very good hand-eye coordination, Clint nuzzling his neck proved to be a very effective distracting technique. When he pointed out to Clint that his teaching technique left something to be desired, Clint just laughed and squeezed him close for one more moment before going back to working on the glaze.

Breakfast was a quiet, comfortable affair. They sat side by side and Clint enjoyed holding Phil’s hand while they ate (even though it made eating a little bit more awkward) and he liked how Phil’s thumb continuously rubbed little patterns on the back of his hand. He also enjoyed watching Phil stoically pretend that they weren’t playing footsie. It was a little like breakfast at home with Natasha, but better in a way that was hard to put into words; but he didn’t want to think about what that feeling meant, so he focused on the food and casually bumped his shoulder against Phil’s. He was pleasantly surprised when professional Agent Coulson leaned towards him and bumped him back.

After breakfast Phil suggested they watch another movie, but even with Lord of the Rings on blu-ray playing on his high definition screen, Phil only had eyes for Clint. They had started out sitting side by side, both facing the screen, like sensible movie watchers; but somehow, through small movements, Clint had rearranged them so that while Phil was still sitting facing forward, Clint was sitting on his lap, using the armrest as a backrest and they both had their arms wrapped around each other, neither one paying any attention to the movie. 

In between kisses Phil brought up the elephant in the room and reminded Clint that they needed to talk about what would happen after today. Clint frowned and kissed Phil instead. Phil chuckled and let the kisses continue but he kept them shallower than they had been.

Eventually Clint gave in and slowed their kisses enough to say, “I assume you’ve already come up with a plan, boss?”

Phil smiled and kissed him again. “You know me so well.”

Clint returned the smile and the kiss. “So what are you going to tell the Director?”

“A partial truth. It’s too much to hope for that no one saw you come over here or that we weren’t witnessed on some surveillance system while grocery shopping yesterday. So I’ll tell him we talked it over and we both understand that we have to wait until you aren’t under my command structure if we want more, but for now we agreed to just be friends.” He touched their noses together before giving in and claiming another kiss. “Christ, Clint,” he muttered, “kissing you is going to be a hard habit to break.”

Clint nipped at Phil’s lip and kissed him again with a smile. “Have you lied to him before?”

“Not about something like this. But it’s safer for him, and for us, if he doesn’t know.”

Clint’s eyes went wide and he shifted back far enough to look Phil in the eyes. “Shit, Phil. This Situation, it’s not just a little bit above my clearance level is it?”

“Clint, it’s” Phil paused to pull Clint close enough for another kiss and then sighed when he realized what he’d done. “God, I will never not want to be kissing you again, will I?”

Clint laughed softly and gave him another kiss. “Now I know I’ve seen it all, Agent Coulson can be distracted.”

Phil brushed their lips together and sighed. “Nick is my best friend, he’s known me for years and when we were in the Rangers together he risked his job helping me sneak around Don’t Ask Don’t Tell with my boyfriend. He knew if I was willing to kiss you on a mission, another set of rules wasn’t likely to stop me, but this Situation is literally a world-wide risk level.” He gave in and kissed Clint again, slower this time, taking the time to suck on his lip and leaving Clint a little breathless. 

“When he told me what the risk level was, I knew it would have to be something close to that for me to not even try to give us a chance.” He ran his fingers through Clint’s hair and pulled him closer for another kiss. “After this,” he paused to kiss Clint again and could feel him smile through the kiss. “You’re laughing at me, but after you walk out my door today, it’s going to be years, literally years--” he stopped and captured Clint’s lips again sucking on his bottom lip and nibbling it with his teeth until Clint moaned and eagerly returned the favour. 

“I think you might need to add ‘distracting lips’ to my dossier,” teased Clint.

“Never,” stated Phil instantly and his eyes seemed to shutter closed. Phil’s brow started to furl and his arms loosened around Clint.

“Nuh na. None of that,” said Clint and he shifted position so he was straddling Phil, facing him straight on, and kissed Phil as wet and filthy as he could until Phil was moaning under him and enthusiastically participating. “By my count, we have at least eight more hours in this secret world here, and I don’t want to waste a moment worrying about anything outside of it.” He smirked at Phil. “I do however want to test my new found talent to make you lose your ability to think. You have two completely separate sentences that you have failed to finish. Let’s say this: I’ll keep giving you kisses for as long as you keep talking sensibly in between. If you stop talking, I’ll stop the kisses.”

Phil laughed and greedily took the kisses. “Clint, after this time with you, it would literally have to be a worldwide risk for me to give you up.”

“Oh wow.” Clint leaned in to kiss him again and didn’t stop until the movie was long over and both their lips were red and swollen.


	5. Their Secret World

Phil never wanted to stop kissing Clint. Logically he knew there had to be a finite number of ways their lips could touch before it should start feeling repetitive, but every kiss felt new. Every brush of Clint’s lips, every nip of his teeth, every muffled moan just made him hungrier for more. At some point Phil’s ears registered that the movie soundtrack was repeating the same music over and over again -- but then Clint sucked on his lip in a way that made him see stars, and all he could think about was returning the favour until it was Clint’s turn to gasp and moan into his mouth.  

The next time Phil paused to come up for air, he forced himself to slow their kisses and take full breaths in between. Finally he paused to press their foreheads together and muttered ruefully, “Kissing you is going to be a very hard habit to break.”

Clint smiled down at him fondly, “I always knew I was your favorite.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” teased Phil, “I’m very fond of all my agents. I don’t believe in playing favorites.”

Clint laughed, “You let all your agents put you in such compromising positions, sir?”

Phil tried to sound business-like, but having Clint in his lap and in his arms gave his voice a husky undertone that he couldn’t completely disguise. “I’d hardly describe my position as compromised. I’m properly dressed and sitting on my couch.”

Clint grinned wickedly and leaned down to whisper darkly in Phil’s ear. “You have no idea what you look like right now, do you, sir?” He kept perfectly still, not using anything other than his voice to stimulate the man under him. “Your hair is mussed like I’ve never seen it before, your pupils are blown wide with lust, you’re flushed everywhere, your lips are red and swollen from me kissing and biting them for hours, your nipples are hard as little pebbles; in short, I’ve never seen a man who looked more ready for sex than you do right now unless they were already thrusting their cock into my ass.”

“God damn, you and your mouth, Barton,” groaned Phil. He forced Clint’s mouth back to his and Clint was laughing but happy to be kissed again for a few minutes before pulling away.

“In all seriousness, Phil, it is getting past noon, we should start thinking about lunch before we get too hungry.” As if on cue Phil’s stomach burbled a little and Clint laughed. “I may be a miracle worker in the kitchen compared to you, but with your pathetic stock of non-microwavable food; if we plan on eating anything that counts as real food, we are going to need to do another grocery run.”

Phil gave him a gentle closing kiss. “You’re right. And it would be good for us to be seen out together. If someone checks up on us I’d like surveillance footage as evidence of our ongoing platonic relationship.”

“Such a romantic,” teased Clint, but he felt Phil flinch under the jab. “Hey hey,” he kissed the older man gently, “None of that. I’m just teasing and we both know the score.”

“Sorry, Clint.” He scoffed a laugh. “And to think I was so worried about you getting hurt when this ended.”

Clint kissed him on the forehead and said quietly, “We both knew it was going to suck.”

This time Phil’s laugh was a little less bitter. “We both knew it was going to suck,” he agreed.

“Now, why don’t you go wash up so you are platonically presentable,” Clint teased, “and I’ll figure out something for lunch.”

In deference to Phil’s hungry stomach Clint decided on BLTs and a quick cobb salad. Phil was the furthest thing from a fussy eater, but Clint knew that he enjoyed his vegetables more when bacon was added. At the grocery store, Clint picked up fresh bread and tomatoes. He sent Phil to get lettuce and laughed when he brought back a head of cabbage by accident. Together they picked out a brownie mix for dessert and bickered over ice cream until Phil ended it by getting both the cookie dough and the mint chocolate chip flavors.

They brought the groceries back to Phil’s apartment and no sooner had the door closed behind them then Phil dropped his bags and pressed Clint up against the wall for a hungry kiss. “Seventy-three minutes,” he grumbled in between kisses. “Seventy-three wasted minutes when I could have been kissing you instead of shopping.”

Clint’s laughter bubbled up through Phil’s kisses and he sighed. “I’ve never had anyone kiss me the way you do, Phil.” He dropped the groceries in one hand and brushed his fingertips across Phil’s cheek. “I love the way you kiss me,” he confided. And he kissed Phil one more time before pushing him away with a smile. “But I’m not dropping the bag with the eggs in it, so we need to move this to the kitchen.”

Clint put Phil in charge of the brownies while he chopped the veggies, fried the bacon, and prepared the sandwiches and salad. He smiled when he spied Phil measuring the milk so carefully, making sure each ingredient was precisely added and checking everything twice. It was positively endearing to see the competent Agent Coulson slightly out of his element and working so hard to learn something new. Clint stopped cooking twice just to dust imaginary flour from Phil’s shirt and steal kisses.

Lunch was quiet, like breakfast had been. They held hands again while they ate and neither of them cared how much slower or more awkward it made the meal. Clint didn’t try to hide how often his gaze slid away from his food and over to Phil; and, sometimes he caught Phil staring back. All the little attentions from Phil put butterflies in Clint’s stomach and he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to make this brief escape last longer.

“Hey, Phil, do you ever think about what you’ll do after SHIELD?”

The question surprised Phil and, unbidden, he started thinking about HYDRA moles that were trying to destroy SHIELD; about how deeply they had infiltrated SHIELD; about possible strategies that could be used to target a loyal senior agent who was the Director’s best friend; about how he would design that op and the answer that came to him looked suspiciously like how the last week of his life had played out. Trying to sound casual but knowing he missed the mark, he said, “Why would you ask me that?”

Clint frowned in confusion, he could feel Phil tensing beside him and could feel the senior agent’s pulse beating faster through his hand. He felt like he had somehow stepped into a minefield and didn’t know which way to jump. Very carefully he said, “Because if we weren’t part of SHIELD this, us, wouldn’t be an issue...”

Phil’s mind was racing. If HYDRA got to Clint and this was their recruitment approach he was going to find out who had dared to corrupt his archer and not even Fury’s wrath would compare to his. As calmly as he could, he said, “You know I’m loyal to SHIELD, right Clint?”

Clint was trying very hard not to go on high alert, but every instinct was telling him to run; was telling him that the man holding his hand was one wrong answer away from flipping the switch from friend to foe.

Like he was trying to talk down a man pointing a gun at him, Clint said, “Phil, I don’t feel like we are having the same conversation here. I don’t think we’re on the same page, hell, I’m not even sure we’re in the same book!” Clint could hear the anxiety bleeding into his voice, “I don’t know what I said, but can we please back this train up and start this conversation over?”

Phil squeezed his hand reassuringly, but he couldn’t let go of that lingering doubt. “It’s just, SHIELD is important to me. Not just the organization or the name, but the values it stands for, those are what really matter to me.”

Clint looked at him like Phil was trying very earnestly to convince Clint that human beings needed air to survive. Clint would think it was funny if the room didn’t feel so dangerously tense. “Sir, the junior agents think it’s possible you are a robot built for the sole purpose of serving SHIELD.” He tried to say it with a laugh despite his nerves, “You have a small shrine to Captain America, the spiritual foundation on which SHIELD is based, in your office. Yes, I think somewhere along the way, I picked up on the fact that you are loyal to the spirit of SHIELD.”

As he spoke, Clint thought he figured out part of the problem. Incredulous, he said, “You thought I was going to ask you to quit for me?” This time the laughter really did come out. “I’m not that stupid! I know that’s not a test I would win and I’d be an ass to even ask. If one of us were to leave, I know it would be me; but I don’t have anywhere else to go and I like being a hero -- I like being part of Strike Team Delta and I like doing good.”

“What we do is important, Clint. Those values are important to me and I want them to be important to you too,” said Phil very earnestly.

“Phil, you brought me in all those years ago. You believed in me in a way no one ever had before and you saw more in me than just my ability to shoot. You see right and wrong on a deeper level than anyone I’ve ever known. I trust you and I believe in your values.” Clint didn’t fully understand it, but he could feel the terrible tension leaving the room, so he finished by teasing, “You have a stronger moral compass than anyone save your own holy Captain America.”

Phil wholeheartedly wanted to believe Clint, and strategically he rationalized, this was not the way an expert HYDRA operative would have played this conversation, unless they were in full retreat. It was possible he’d played his hand too early and made it too obvious that nothing Clint could say would sway him, but his instinct told him to trust Clint. They’d been too close for too long. He didn’t have proof, but this one time, just this once, with this one person, he was going to make an exception and force himself to take it on faith that Clint was on his side without demanding proof.

Phil leaned over to give Clint a quick peck on the lips. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Clint. You have a good heart and I wouldn’t have you any way other than the way you are.” He knew it wasn’t quite the right thing to say, but it was enough to show he was trying to help defuse the tension.

Clint breathed a sigh of relief and looked away trying hard not to blush from Phil’s praise (he failed spectacularly) but after a pause he smirked over at Phil. “Does that include the way I fill out my requisition forms?”

Phil exaggerated his grimace. “Does handing me a form that says, ‘you know what I want’ count as filling out?”

Clint laughed. “Always seems to work for me!”

“You are lucky I like you, Barton,” said Phil, and unconsciously his thumb started to move in little circles, tracing patterns on the back of Clint’s hand again.

Clint waited for Phil to finish chewing before he leaned over and kissed him again, murmuring, “I really really am.”

 

* * *

 

 

They spent the afternoon snuggled on the smaller couch that didn't face the TV. Phil’s condo had a mock fireplace which Clint thought was the most ridiculous thing ever and insisted that they turn down the heat, get out a blanket, and snuggle in front of it.

Phil found both Clint’s mockery of the fireplace, and enthusiasm to use it, endearing; so, he was happy to sit on the loveseat with his arm around Clint, who curled up beside him with his head on his shoulder, and watch the digital flames dance. They traded sweet kisses while they talked about whatever came to mind.

It felt just like the countless hours they’d spent together killing time while away on missions, or sitting in Coulson’s office, or just taking a break to eat, but with the added closeness that felt so right and small kisses to fill the comfortable silences.

They talked about food and drinks, best missions and worst missions, favorite TV shows and worst travel experiences. Clint shared his dream of retiring to a cabin in the woods with Natasha someday and he felt Phil tense up again. “Phil, why don’t you like talking about what might happen in a life after SHIELD?”

“Because I know the odds too well.” Phil sighed. “SHIELD isn’t an organization with a large pension budget. What it has instead is a large widow’s relief fund. I know I’m not likely to die of old age asleep in my bed, so no, I don’t like to think about it.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, what about vacations? Could we talk about what vacations would be like when the Situation gets resolved?”

Phil hummed contentedly. “I think the first one would be just like this. I wouldn’t want to fight with travel arrangements and scenic tours or scheduled entertainment; I just want days and days of touching you as much as I want, learning all the little secrets that only a lover knows--” he paused to nuzzle Clint’s neck and kiss him just below his ear, “and talking with you about whatever we want without watching the clock countdown until it’s over.”

Clint smiled into Phil’s hair. “That sounds perfect.”

“I wish I wasn’t watching the clock countdown now.” Phil shifted position so he was straddling Clint and used both his hands to gently cup Clint’s face. “I wish you could stay.” Phil brought their lips together and opened his mouth, but whereas so many of their earlier kisses had been heated and wanton, this one was gentle. Clint’s mouth was wet and hot, and Phil still had the urge to crush their lips together and to use his tongue to fuck Clint’s mouth and to bite at his lips until he moaned and made those delicious little noises that went straight to his cock; but he held himself back and kissed Clint like they had all the time in the world and nothing mattered except this moment. “It’s important to me that you believe me Clint: if I were a free man, this isn’t how things would end.”

Clint could feel himself getting choked up and he was a man who could stand up to dangerous villains, fight through painful injuries, and face down hard truths; but soft emotional mushiness was much too scary for him. So he focused on the easy part of what Phil had said and tried very hard to keep his tone light when he replied, “I don’t have to leave yet, Phil. It’s only 1700.”

“You should leave soon Clint, before dinner time,” replied Phil firmly. But the effect was ruined by the way he clutched at Clint and pulled him closer for another kiss. He kissed his lips, his cheeks, his neck, his ears, everywhere his lips could reach. In between kisses he sounded like he was talking to himself. “I can’t keep you here tonight. I wish I could, oh God, how I wish I could.” He gave up speaking and gave up restraint; he kissed Clint passionately, trying to remember every taste, every touch, every noise he could pull out of the younger man and leaving them both breathless.

Clint whimpered into the kisses and started to roll his hips against the man above him.  “Have a late dinner and make love with me one more time before I go,” he coaxed.

Phil made a little whine noise in the back of this throat and smothered the last of Clint’s words by crushing their lips together until their teeth clicked.

“Oh Clint, I’ll make love with you however you want,” he panted.

With his hands on the back of Clint’s neck he pressed their foreheads together and tried to catch his breath. “I can’t say no to you.” He groaned and kissed him again. He wanted to go slow, to let Clint take the lead, but he couldn’t resist slipping his hands under Clint’s shirt to run his fingers up and down his sides. Each muscle was so firmly defined, Phil just wanted to drag him back to bed and trace every line with his hands and his tongue. “I don’t want to say no to you. I’ll give you anything you want, darling, just tell me what you want.”

The heat coming off Phil on top of him was intoxicating. “I want you naked in your bed. I want to touch you everywhere, learn every spot that makes you moan or makes you whimper. I love the way you kiss me and I want to feel what you kiss like when you’re coming to pieces while I touch you.”

Phil wouldn’t dare let himself speak, he was sure his words would damn him. So he drowned his inarticulate noises in a searing kiss and didn’t stop until he was sure the only words coming out of his mouth would be: “Yes. Please. Bed. Now.”

Then he was standing up and yanking Clint up with him. He tried to walk backwards towards his bedroom without breaking the kiss for a moment. The first time he stumbled over nothing Clint caught him, the second time Clint hoisted him up so Phil could wrap his legs around Clint’s waist and holy fuck, what it felt like to have this strong man use his incredible arms to carry him the twenty steps down the hall to his bedroom. Phil was rock hard and panting for breath between kisses. Not even knowing what he was saying, he muttered, “Never going to be anyone like you again.” and “Oh, God. You’re incredible.” and “I’m never going to let you go.” and “Please.” and other inarticulate noises that Clint couldn’t make out.

Phil was not a small man, he was the same height as Clint and solid muscle under his suits; so, even for Clint, picking Phil up to carry him like a monkey on his chest wasn’t easy, but, oh, was it ever worth it for the reaction he got. Phil’s passionate kisses became fiery hot and Clint was pretty sure Phil had no idea what he was saying, but the fact that some part of him never wanted to let Clint go, it went straight to his heart and he wanted to lay that man down and kiss him until he came apart.

When he reached the foot of Phil’s bed, without breaking contact, he laid them both down so Clint was on top of Phil. They both groaned as the new position finally gave friction to their throbbing cocks. Phil rolled his hips against Clint and groaned into the kiss. “Tell me what you want, Clint.” He drowned his words in another wet kiss. “Please. Let me make this good for you.”

“You, Phil,” he panted. “I just want you, I want to touch you.” Clint pulled Phil’s shirt off and kissed the revealed skin from his waist up to his neck. Phil started stripping Clint out of his borrowed clothes and soon they were just two naked men, lying on their sides face to face, touching skin to skin with no space between them. Phil didn’t even let go to get lube, he just wrapped his hand around both their throbbing cocks, added some spit, and started to stroke.

Clint moaned at the friction and whimpered into Phil’s neck, “I love the way you kiss me, Phil, please kiss me again and don’t stop.”

Phil cut off Clint’s plea with another kiss. He never wanted to stop kissing the beautiful man beside him. They fit together perfectly, he wanted to keep Clint forever, to treasure him and care for him; and, when Clint had said ‘make love’ earlier it had fried his brain. He wanted that too, he wanted to make love with this man, not just passion and sex, not just hot kisses and orgasms, he wanted so much more, so much that he couldn’t have, so he was going to make this an experience Clint never forgot.

One hand wrapped around their slick cocks, Phil laced the fingers of his other hand through Clint’s and stretched their arms up above so that they were stretched out and everywhere possible their bodies were pressed together, every inch of him feeling and remembering every inch of the other man. Clint put his other hand around the back of Phil’s neck and pulled him close for another kiss so there was no telling where one began and the other ended.

Phil couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up in counterpoint to his stroking fist. He’d wanted to take it slow, but Clint was whimpering into his kisses, fucking his mouth in rhythm to his stroking fist, and his strong arm was wrapped around Phil’s shoulder cradling his head. It was such a heady combination. Phil wanted this to last but Clint’s kisses were an aphrodisiac he couldn’t resist.

“Clint,” he panted, “I’m so close already, what do you need?”

Clint rolled his hips with Phil’s and gasped out, “Just kiss me. I want to kiss you while you come all over me.”

It was hard to keep kissing Clint. He wanted to focus on dragging this out, on gently making love, on stroking him through his pleasure, but Clint’s kisses stoked the fire in him like nothing ever had before and the little noises he made when Phil nibbled on his lip drove him over the edge. He gripped Clint’s hand tight and couldn’t stop himself from biting down on Clint’s lip as his orgasm rolled over him, all his muscles tensing until he relaxed into panting breaths and loose limbs.

For Clint it was too much. He was already so close. Spending the whole day kissing Phil, wearing his clothes, touching him almost constantly, it felt like the way things should be and what could’ve been. No one had ever touched him like this, touched him until each touch burned hot though his whole body. Clint moaned into Phil’s mouth and rolled them so he was on top of Phil, thrusting desperately into Phil’s relaxed hand and rubbing against his softening cock.

It took Phil a moment to come back to himself enough to grip Clint’s cock firmly again. When he did, Clint groaned and kissed him harder. Phil gripped their hands together tightly and smiled into the kiss. “Was that what you wanted, darling, to break me and make me come all over you?”

Clint trembled against him and moaned, “Oh fuck, Phil. I didn’t tell you to stop kissing me.”

Phil gladly kissed him again. He wanted to savor the moment -- his last moment with Clint. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself not to think about it, about giving this up forever -- and he ignored the prickling behind his eyelids. He tried to focus on the feel of Clint’s body above him, the feel of Clint’s soft lips against his and just the hint of stubble that was rough against his skin. The desperate moans Clint made as he kissed him again. He was going to make this so good for Clint. He opened his eyes and Clint was so close, every line of him was thrown into stark relief by the dim lighting. “So perfect,” Phil couldn’t help but whisper.

Clint gasped and his eyes flew open, blue eyes staring into gray. Phil gripped Clint’s cock harder and stroked up, his thumb teasing around the sensitive slit. Clint closed his eyes and groaned, claiming Phil’s lips in another kiss. Phil stroked him through it until Clint was a panting, wet mess on top of him. The weight of it should have made it hard to breathe, but somehow it felt perfect.

Clint was beautiful. Eyes closed and mouth slack, no cynicism or bitterness on his face, just open and trusting like he usually only was when sleeping. Phil couldn’t stop himself from rolling them over and leaning in for one more kiss. It was soft and gentle. Just a brush of his trembling lips against Clint’s mouth – just one last chance to taste and touch the incredible man in his bed. It was a goodbye kiss and the perfect gentle caress that felt so soft on his lips also felt like it was crushing his heart. 

He couldn’t stay. 

Phil went to the washroom and cleaned himself up, splashed cold water on his face. He had told Nick he thought Clint could be the one for him. Well he wasn’t wrong. Now he just needed to deal with facing a world where he  _knew_ that it could be true instead of just suspecting it.

 

* * *

 

 

Clint came back to himself slowly. Kissing Phil had been everything he’d hoped it would be. Phil kissed him like his kisses were the most important thing in the world and it made Clint feel like time was stopping. He was never going to forget what Phil kissed like while he was coming, it was like being in the center of a tornado and their lips were the only thing keeping them from falling apart into a million pieces.

But that last kiss had been different.

There was no mistaking the soft brush of lips Phil had given him before he left. It was a goodbye kiss. Phil wasn’t planning on kissing him again today and he was probably going to be dressed and shifting back to Agent Coulson mode by the time he returned. Well, Clint could do that too. After all, he told himself, they both knew the score.

Clint dressed himself in the clothes he had worn yesterday and took a couple deep breaths. He was a grown man, a survivor of the circus and the streets. He was Hawkeye. He was Agent Barton. He was not going to get teary eyed just because he had great sex and was now going home. He rolled his shoulders and reminded himself that for now, that was all this was. Just sex. Nothing to get emotional about and it wasn’t like it was never going to happen again… it was just going to be a while.

When he came out, Phil was tidying up in the kitchen and packing up the leftovers of the food Clint had made. He looked up at Clint and then looked quickly back down at the food. “I thought you might like to take your food home with you?”

“Nah, you keep it, sir. Goodness knows you could use some food to eat around here that isn’t bought frozen.”

Coulson walked towards the entrance way, eyes scanning his condo. “You got everything, Barton?”

Clint smirked, “Yes sir, just need the clothes on my back. You know how I like to travel.”

Phil rolled his eyes, “Yes, and if I didn’t pack an extra toothbrush and socks for you on away missions, you’d be very disappointed.”

Clint shrugged, “If a system works…”

Phil smiled fondly at him, “If I ever stopped indulging you…” but he looked away without finishing that thought and forced himself to step back so he was an arm’s length away from Clint. He had to respect their boundaries and he had to start now.

Clint started putting on his boots and retying the laces to stall for time. He desperately wanted this to end well; he didn’t want this to be a sentimental goodbye. This wasn’t going to be a thing, but he didn’t want to pretend it never happened and he needed Phil to know that.

He tried his best to give Phil his classic Agent Barton cheeky grin. “I think I’m going to rename your condo, sir.”

“Oh?”

He gave Phil an exaggerated wink, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

Phil shook his head and laughed. (It amazed him that even now, Clint could still make him laugh.) He opened the door. “Good night, Barton.”

Clint gave him a jaunty salute, and with a casual, “See you tomorrow, Coulson,” he left.

 

* * *

Phil closed the door behind Clint and the space suddenly seemed less friendly and welcoming; more like a rented apartment than home. Maybe, he thought to himself, this hadn’t been such a good idea. He’d known that getting a taste of what having Clint could be like, and then giving it up, was going to have consequences, but he hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

Well it was what it was. He tried to shrug it off. He was never going to be able to forget what it felt like to touch Clint, how his laugh sounded when it was muffled by Phil’s lips, or the way he called Phil’s name when he came... but, he firmly told himself, now was the time to compartmentalize. He was a SHIELD agent. He was trained to do this, and now he need to use that training to prepare for tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, and (if the worst should happen) possibly the rest of his life, without Clint.

Just thinking about spending the rest of his life without kissing Clint again felt made his chest feel painfully hollow; but Phil Coulson had not gotten where he was in life by letting what he wished was true impede his ability to recognize reality. He was someone who remained calm under pressure and never lost sight of the end goal. So he had a plan for what he was going to tell Nick tomorrow and from now on, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, a platonic dinner and movie was all there was to this weekend -- and that was all he would allow himself to think about.

Phil ate frozen pizza for dinner and, when it became too hard not to compare the unsatisfying pizza to the meals he’d had over the last two days, he put on his recorded reality TV shows and forced himself to focus on them until he could reasonably justify calling it a night and escape into a dreamless sleep.

When Phil woke up in the morning his bed felt too big and empty, but it still smelled like Clint and the scent both warmed him and sent a cold stab through his heart. He rolled over and let himself enjoy the luxury of snuggling Clint’s pillow close for an extra ten minutes, this could possibly be his last opportunity for such an indulgence. He wasn’t so self-sacrificing that he would deny himself the experience.

But he also knew what was expected of Agent Coulson, so after those 10 minutes were up, he showered, stripped the sheets, dressed quickly, and ate the last of their brownies for breakfast while on his way to work. He arrived at SHIELD HQ at 0630, ready to start his day, but before even reactivating his email, he needed to update Nick.


	6. The New Normal

When Clint got home Natasha was waiting for him in their living room with a book. She eyed him very carefully and gave him a puzzled frown. “Where have you been, little bird?”

Clint gave her a quizzical look, Natasha could usually tell what he’d been doing just be looking at him. “You don’t know?”

She was still frowning. “I was expecting bar hopping,” she cocked her head to the side, “but you’re dry as a desert.”

Her frown turned into an angry glower. “You and Coulson got suspended for making out and endangering a mission, you spent the night at his place, and you still aren’t together?!”

She stood up and stalked towards him getting right up in his personal space, accusatory finger poking him in the chest, and growled, “You two have been dancing around each other since BEFORE I joined SHIELD. What the hell, Clint?”

Clint put his arms around her to hug her and stop her from poking at him. He held her there for a moment and rested his chin on top of her head. She couldn’t see his face but he couldn’t hide the sadness in his voice. “He’s not willing to sneak around the fraternization regs.”

She relaxed into Clint’s touch and put her arms around him to return the hug. She commiserated, “That’s stupid.”

“Yep,” he agreed sadly.

“You pushed and he said no?” she asked.

“Pretty much.”

“I’m sorry, little bird.”

“He promised to tell me if he changed his mind.”

She sighed. “That’s worse.”

“I promised not to wait around pining.”

“You lied.”

“Yep.”

They stood together like that in silence for a while before Natasha spoke again. “Berlin was boring and the food was terrible.”

Clint couldn’t help but smile a little. Sometimes Natasha was astonishingly bad at subtle. “I think we’ve still got some fresh tomatoes, want me to make you some creamy tomato soup?”

“Yes, please.”

Clint kissed the top of her head and let her go. “I can do that.”

They moved around each other like a well-oiled machine. Clint cooked and Natasha cleaned around him and set the table. Usually meal prep was a quiet affair but tonight Natasha chatted all the way through it about all the unexpected things that had happened in Berlin and which agents needed to be demoted back down to baby agent status -- John Garrett for example was a complete idiot who had nearly bumbled the whole thing. Clint appreciated the distraction and it felt good to laugh with his best friend.

After dinner they did their usual pre-bed routines, but Natasha stopped him before he went into his room. “Do you want to sleep with me tonight?”

The idea of his cold lonely bed, after what amounted to almost 24 hours of constant physical contact with Phil was very unappealing. He wasn’t sure he’d sleep at all but being with Natasha would help. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

When he’d first brought in Black Widow, they’d been almost inseparable. He’d wanted to protect her and she didn’t trust anyone except him. The sleeping together had happened naturally. Natasha wasn’t interested in sex and Clint wasn’t interested in women, but they both craved comfort and security and the intangible feeling of ‘not being out in the cold’; and sleeping with a warm body was one way to do that. As Natasha settled in, it became less constant, but on bad days it was a safe bet that where one slept, the other was next to them.

Clint settled in close to Natasha and she wrapped an arm around him. “Was it worth it, little bird? Your two day affair?”

“We didn’t-” Natasha squeezed his arm to cut him off. He didn’t know why he bothered trying to lie to her.

He sighed. “It was perfect, but also painful like you wouldn’t believe.” He could feel the tears starting to well up in his eyes so he buried his face in his pillow and let Natasha arrange them so she was the big spoon while he cried silently. “We both knew it was just going to be the two days and we promised not to tell anyone.” 

“Little bird, this is stupid. There is no reason you couldn’t have a secret-”

Clint cut her off, “Tasha, he’s going to lie to the Director about what happened while I was there.”

She was silent for a moment. “There is something you aren’t telling me.”

“Yep.”

“Coulson didn’t choose this. There is something out there that he’s more afraid of than he is of losing you.”

“Yep.”

“He doesn’t scare easily.”

“Nope.”

“Damn it, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” She stroked his arm and gentled her voice, “I hate seeing you in so much pain.”

Clint wiped away his tears and gave her a consoling hug. “I’m sorry, Tasha. I wish it were different.”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

Natasha hissed, “You mean that! Why do you mean that?” Clint could feel her frustration all through her body. Black Widow didn’t care about a lot of people and he knew that being asked not to help the two people she cared about most would hurt her.

“Because it’s what he needs. I’m sorry, Tasha. It’s just how it has to be. You trust him don’t you?”

“I do,” she said grudgingly.

“So we both have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.”

“I don’t like it,” she stated.

“I know.” His voice cracked, “I wish it could be different.”

“I’m sorry, little bird,” she soothed. “Tell me about it. Tell me about all the good parts of the last two days.”

He told her about cooking and cleaning up, about drinking and watching movies, about snuggling and friendly teasing, about laughing and about his dreams for someday, and he must have fallen asleep while talking because he woke up in the morning still being held by Natasha and feeling more emotionally centered than he’d thought would be possible on the first day of his new normal.


	7. It’s Easy to Look Okay When Nobody is Looking

The next morning, before most people were awake, Director Nick Fury was sitting at his desk scowling at the report on his screen. The WSC was refusing to fund his request to increase SHIELD headcount by 25% over the next five years. Well fuck them and their short-sighted approach to problems. He couldn’t tell them that currently 25% of SHIELD employees were not working in the best interests of world security and he needed to start hiring now to replace the corrupt parts, but it wouldn’t matter if he did because the damn idiots never listened to his advice anyway. As usual, he was going to have to work around them to ensure the stability of SHIELD.  

He had seriously considered telling Pierce everything, they’d been friends almost as long as him and Phil, but there were dangers in spreading a secret too far and strategically they couldn’t risk reading anyone else in until they had more data. But fuck if he didn’t want to just systematically capture and interrogate each and every SHIELD agent until he was certain they’d found each and every dirty stinking rat and sent them all to hell.

On top of that, the amount of shit that had ended up on his desk over the last two days was unbelievable. He’d grown to dread the knocks at his door that led to conversations starting with: ‘Usually Coulson would handle this but...’. It was fucking ridiculous. Did no one else around here work? Maria had been just as swamped, but she wasn’t up to speed on all of Coulson’s projects and there had been a disturbing number of questions that apparently only he could answer. SHIELD needed better succession planning and back up plans for its irreplaceable agents.

So it was no surprise that he was at work (really he hadn’t gone home the night before) when someone knocked at his door at 0630. He refrained from sighing. In thirty more minutes Coulson would probably be back at his desk and then he could send all the agents with questions to see him. Nick buzzed his door open and was only a little surprised to see Phil entering his office. He scowled at the unassuming man. He was fucking relieved that Coulson was back, but he’d spent the last 48 hours being run ragged by ‘supposedly’ senior agents who it turned out couldn’t find their asses with two hands and a map unless Coulson was on hand to issue step-by-step instructions, and the man in front of him looked pretty fucking relaxed and not even a little bit sorry.

“Welcome back, Phil.” He made sure his voice had at least a bit of growl in it for show, even though he knew Phil would see right through it. “You missed two fucking days and, despite practically doubling the workload for me and Maria, you’ve still got about a week’s worth of work to get caught up on. Do us all a favor and don’t do anything stupid enough to get yourself suspended again. This place felt like it was falling apart without you.”

Phil smirked. “It’s nice to be missed.”

Nick’s lips twitched in a returning smirk but he covered it with a flat look. “I assume there’s a reason you are in my office instead of yours?”

Phil assumed a parade rest stance and Nick felt his hackles rise. Whatever Phil said next, he knew he wasn’t going to like it. “Yes, sir. I wish to inform you that Agent Barton came to see me while we were suspended.”

“Fucking hell, Cheese!” Nick exploded, “What were you thinking? We talked about this! I KNOW we talked about this!”

Phil maintained his calm parade rest stance and let his boss’ tirade wash over him. His voice was steady. “We did sir, and I took your words to heart.” He made eye contact briefly with the Director and Nick could see a sad hollowness in his friend’s eyes. “We are just going to be friends.”

Nick frowned at his old friend and studied him carefully. “Phil,” Fury growled, “if I get even a whiff of this being more than a platonic friendship that would make angels weep with fucking joy for its purity, you know there will be hell to pay.”

Phil’s eyes shuttered closed and he resumed his military report tone. “You won’t, sir. He had too much to drink, so he spent the night, but I took the couch.”

Under other circumstances, Nick would have rolled his eyes at Phil. Of course, when the man Phil wanted to bed had too much to drink, Phil took the couch; that was classic Cheese. As his wingman, Nick had seen Phil cockblock himself too many times to count in the name of ‘doing the right thing,’ even when it was obvious to everyone else that the other guy was interested. But Phil had never been one for one-night stands. He tuned back in to listen to Phil conclude, “He’s not ‘waiting’ for me, but he asked me to promise to tell him if I changed my mind in the future and I gave him that promise.”

Nick felt a little pang. It was obvious that this sucked for Phil, and he knew his friend was doing the best he could. In all their years, Phil had never let him down; he had to believe he wasn’t going to start now. “Alright Cheese. I believe you. But if either of you ever decide working together is too much temptation, I can give him a lateral transfer within Ops. You’re the Head of Ops and he’s a Specialist so I can’t take him out of your command tree but he could have another Handler.” His tone was apologetic, “I’m not trying to torture two of my best agents.”

Phil’s shoulders sagged a little and he gave Nick a small smile. “Thanks. If it comes to that I might take you up on it. But for now, I’d rather be the one responsible for keeping him safe.”

Of course he would, thought Nick. When was Phil ever willing to trust anyone else to take care of the ones he cared about most? The fact that this particular trait had saved Nick’s life on more than one occasion and was the only reason why he’d lost an eye in the fires of Burma instead of his life, was something he would never forget.

“Alright, Cheese,” said Nick with a friendly grumble, “now get your ass back to work.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.” responded Phil with a smile. There was a lot to do and being busy and preoccupied was going to feel good.

 

* * *

Phil had made it through his meeting with the Director, two cups of coffee, and was about a quarter of the way through his unread emails when the rest of the SHIELD building started to get busy and Hawkeye and Black Widow walked into his office.

Phil should have been expecting them, this was part of their routine, but he’d lost track of time and his breath caught for just a second when he saw Clint -- he had a visceral desire to touch the man again.

Phil firmly clamped down on that urge and compartmentalized it. He could consciously know what Clint felt like, tasted like, and sounded like, without acting on it; he had to if he wanted to both protect SHIELD from the dangers within and be the person responsible for protecting Clint on missions.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him and he knew that she had seen his reaction and knew what it meant, but that wasn’t a surprise. Clint didn’t keep secrets from Natasha, and Phil trusted her to protect them both.

“Good morning, agents.” They smiled back at him and took their usual spots: Clint perched on the back of his couch and Natasha in the seat across from his desk. The routine of it helped settle him. “You don’t have any missions planned for this week, but you still have a pretty full schedule.”

Phil shifted his focus to Clint. “Barton, as a follow up to your recent suspension you have your first mandatory counseling session tomorrow. I know how you feel about therapy sessions, but short of an order from Director Fury, you are absolutely required to attend. Understood?”

It took Clint a moment to respond. “Yes, sir. Director Fury already sent me reminders about it.”

“Romanov, we’ll do your Berlin debrief after this meeting. You are scheduled to assist with advanced hand-to-hand combat training this week and you need to update your poison use certification. The folks in R&D have some new chemical compounds that you qualify to field test. I also want you to work with R&D on your new widow bites. The new ones are smaller, but I think you’re having trouble aiming them as precisely because of how they are weighted.”

“Barton, the Range Master has designed some new virtual obstacle courses. I want you to test them out this week and give him feedback. Don’t be gentle; if the virtual element is going to teach agents habits that aren’t good for reality, I don’t want the plan approved. You also need to retake the falling from heights training.” Coulson pre-emptively cut off the expected complaint. “I know you think it’s a waste of time, but if you are going to insist on jumping and/or falling off every building that isn’t guaranteed to kill you, you  _will_ retake the falling from heights training at very regular intervals.”

Clint frowned at him but there was no heat in it, and considering he usually argued vehemently against retaking the training, Phil was more than willing to accept a small frown as the token protest. He continued, “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve also scheduled a lot of flight training for you. Your basics are good, but you are not combat ready yet and your instructors say you show a lot of potential. Within the next two years I plan to have you certified for combat flight on every form of aerial support we have. It’s going to be a lot of work, but I think you can do it.”

Clint nodded but didn’t respond.

He addressed both of them, “I also want both of you to brush up on your Spanish. There is a terrorist organisation in Mexico, that I think is going to start earning some SHIELD attention in the near future and it’s been awhile since either of you had a mission with a Spanish language requirement.”

He reviewed his notes and, satisfied that he’d covered everything, looked back up at them. “Any questions Agents?”

“No, sir,” they chorused.

“Dismissed,” he said with a smile.

Romanov stayed seated and Barton left without a word. Phil was surprised and somewhat concerned by Barton’s uncharacteristically silent presence and departure, but quickly refocused his attention on the agent in front of him; he would talk to Clint afterwards. “I’ve read the Berlin reports Romanov, you did very well. I think, if Garrett hadn’t had you as lead on this team, it would have been a total disaster. I agreed to you being assigned to him because he’s new to being a senior handler and I wanted someone competent who could think on their feet in case things went badly. You lived up to all those expectations and more. I also believe it was a good learning experience for Agent Garrett and he’ll be a better handler in the future because of it.”

Romanov showed no reaction to the conversation and stayed silent.

Coulson met her stare for stare and didn’t back down.

“Is this everything you wanted to debrief on, sir?” Her tone was scornful but her face was devoid of all emotion.

Phil sighed. “Are we really going to do this here and now, Natasha?”

“What were you thinking?” she hissed angrily.

Phil wanted to snap back that he was only human and Clint was the one who kissed him. That being able to see him, and finally knowing what it actually felt like to touch him, yet not being able to do so made his heart ache; but he knew those weren’t things that Agent Coulson could say, not even to those few he considered friends.

He broke the eye contact and looked down. “I know I shouldn’t have let it happen in Marcy. I explained that to him and I’m sure he told you, we agreed just to be friends.” Just saying it aloud felt like he was reopening a tender wound.

“You’re both being a pair of idiots,” she scoffed at him.

“The rules exist for a reason,” the warning was clear in his tone. He was already hurting enough; he really did not need Black Widow to push him on this.

“But there are ways around the rules, Phil,” she pushed.

Self-control wearing thin, he snapped at her, “Not for me there aren’t!” He looked her straight on and ordered: “Agent Romanov, this conversation is over.”

She talked right over him. “What about for him? What about his happiness, Phil? Does that count for anything with you? Or are rules and orders so important to you that you don’t care that I had to hold him while he cried himself to sleep last night – because of you!”

Phil’s chest clenched in pain and at that moment he sincerely hated the woman in front of him. He hated himself for causing Clint so much pain, he hated Natasha for being the one who got to comfort him and hold him at night, and he hated Black Widow for taunting him with what he couldn’t have and for knowing exactly how to hurt him when he was most vulnerable. He hadn’t expected her to assume the worst about him. He’d thought they were friends, and her malicious words hurt all the more for it.

He hid his shaking hands under his desk, but even years of training couldn’t keep his voice from cracking a bit. “You crossed the line, Agent Romanov.” He didn’t look away from her, “And I thought you knew me better than that by now.”

“Phil--”

He cut her off, his pain and anger giving his voice a bitter strength, “You’re dismissed, Agent. I don’t want to see you again until your debrief next week.” He couldn’t read her impassive face, but she looked away first and didn’t say a word as she left.

His office felt quieter and emptier than usual after she left. It would be nice if there was someone he could talk to. Even if it wasn’t about Clint, just someone to make him feel a little less alone right now. Then again, who was there that he was close to? Nick? He thought he knew what Phil was feeling. Clint? He would probably want space for a while. Natasha? She’d made it plain what she thought of him.

There was a time when he would have talked to Melinda, but things had never been the same between them after Bahrain and it had been harder to be friends after she left Nick. Since she transferred out of Ops they hardly spoke at all anymore.

Maybe it wasn’t so hard to be a robot when there wasn’t anyone to try and fool.


	8. The Cheesecake Ransom

Clint was running through his default practice drills on the range when Natasha found him. His first meeting with Phil back at work had hit him like running into a brick wall. Phil was Agent Coulson. There was no sign in him that the last two days had even happened. The softness around his eyes was gone. The small smiles that played with his lips were nonexistent. After the first moment of shock, Clint had just gotten through the meeting on automatic.

He didn’t know what exactly he’d been expecting from Phil, but it wasn’t this. He wasn’t expecting kisses and flowers, but the last two days had happened and he hadn’t realized Phil could erase Clint so completely from himself. Where was the man who couldn’t keep his hands off Clint? The man who counted the minutes while they grocery shopped and pounced on him the moment the door was closed, so hungry for Clint he didn’t care about making a mess, or anything but tasting his lips again? That man would have found a way to show Clint he still mattered. A look. A smile. Something that said ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘I miss you,’ ‘we’ll find a way.’ What he got was Agent Coulson looking straight through him.

Natasha interrupted his practice by placing her small hand firmly on his shooting arm. “We’re going home. Now.”

When he was shooting he was completely focused on the task at hand and the rest of the world was on mute. Leaving that headspace stripped away the protective buffer around his thoughts and the world came crashing back in on him -- he felt so hurt and empty inside.

“I don’t understand.” His voice sounded hollow, “What’s happening, Nat?”

She hugged him fiercely and whispered, “It’s not what you think, little bird. We’ll talk when we get home.”

“Okay.” He didn’t feel like he had the strength to think it through or decide anything for himself right now, so he just followed her out without a backward glance.

Natasha held his hand and didn’t let go of him until she’d locked their apartment door behind them and activated her custom security system.

Clint didn’t look at her. He didn’t know what to say and he didn’t know what to do.

“Clint. It’s not what you think.”

“It was like he didn’t even see me. I thought…” he fought against the tears welling up in his eyes and turned away from her, “he made me think he cared.”

Natasha glowered at his back. “Maybe this is why we say, ‘love is for children’,” she grumbled, “because it turns grown adults into idiotic children.”

Clint turned to face her, feeling completely confused. Natasha’s favorite type of love was ‘tough love’ but this was harsh even for her.

“Clint, that man in his office is barely holding it together better than you are.”

“Nat, were you at the same meeting I was? Agent Coulson hardly gave me the time of day.”

“Unbelievable!” She threw her hands up in exasperation and hopped up to sit on their breakfast bar, “If I’m doing this, you,” she pointed an accusing finger at him, “are making me cheesecake.”

Clint raised an eyebrow at her. Natasha only broke out the cheesecake requests on very bad days. Whatever game she was playing, his curiosity was piqued. He watched her for a moment before nodding and moving towards the kitchen.

“You were too distracted by your own reaction to seeing him. But the look in his eyes when we walked into his office? If he looked like that at the start of an op I would code word him out.”

“You would what?”

“The way he looked at you, he looked so desperate, I wouldn’t trust anyone in that headspace to run an op, not even Coulson.”

“I thought he didn’t see me at all. I thought I – I thought it meant nothing to him, that it was all in my head. Did you really see that or are you just trying to fix me?” He paused to consider if what he was going to say next was true, “I need to know. Are you sure?”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Yes, Clint, I’m sure.”

Clint felt tension he didn’t even know he was holding relax. He knew Coulson was good, but Black Widow was better. If Natasha said Phil was putting on an act, he would believe her. He knew it was going to be something like this, he just hadn’t realized how thorough Coulson’s cover was going to be.

“Okay, so things are going to go back to how they were before and it’ll be okay. I’m sure it won’t take Phil as long as he thinks to get his Situation dealt with. Until then, I just gotta deal with the stuff in my head. I can do that.” Clint started pulling out the ingredients to make cheesecake, he wanted something chocolatey today. “I can handle things being how they were, just the three of us, Strike Team Delta.”

“Ummm, about that.”

“Hmmmm? I’m thinking some kind of chocolate cheesecake, that sound good?”

Natasha almost sounded hesitant. “Clint, I pushed him after you left.”

“Really? Why?” He started to frown. “I thought I asked you not to do that, little spider?”

“I just wanted him to see there were better options,” Natasha whined. “I’m sorry, Clint. I pushed too far.”

Natasha whined. Clint put down the butter he was measuring out and turned to look at her. Natasha never whined. Ever. “What happened, Nat?”

“I thought if he knew how much he was hurting you he would change his mind.”

Clint face palmed. “Awww, Nat, no. What did you say?”

In a small voice that sounded nothing like Natasha, she said, “I’m sorry, Clint.”

Clint looked at the woman sitting on his breakfast bar and saw the myriad of emotions she was projecting. “Okay Nat, this has to stop.” Clint walked over and wrapped her tiny body up in a big hug. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m dealing with enough already. Whatever happened, you and me,” he squeezed her extra tight, “we are going to be good. But please don’t make me sift through layers of Black Widow masks to figure this out. Not today.”

Face still nestled in Clint’s chest, she said, “He told me to back off and instead I accused him of being heartless for not caring if he hurt you. Now he’s ordered me not to talk to him or see him until next week.” Her genuine frustration started seeping into her words, “I was trying to push him into changing his mind and I _know_ Coulson; it should have worked – I still don’t understand why it didn’t work!”

“He’s not a man who can be easily manipulated... but if you made him lose his temper, then it sounds like you almost broke him, and that’s not cool.” Clint rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen: You are going to find Phil and make things right.”

“Just like that?”

Clint chuckled and squeezed her tight again. “You are Black Widow. I’m sure you can do it.” He continued more seriously. “I need you to do this for me because I can’t handle you two not being on the same team right now. Phil’s a good man, if you stop trying to push him into doing what you want and just talk to him it’ll be easier.”

“When did you become the emotionally mature one on Strike Team Delta?”

Clint chuckled warmly and bent to kiss Nat on the top of her head before letting her go and turning back to his baking. “I’m not sure being able to handle casual sex better makes me more emotionally mature than Phil.”

Natasha scoffed. “This is not you having casual sex. I know what that looks like and this is nothing like that.”

“No,” agreed Clint, “but it helps to try and think of it that way.” He started measuring chocolate chips into the double boiler. “And I wouldn’t say my reaction this morning counts as any kind of mature. When I thought it was all in my head and what had happened between us meant nothing to him,” Clint shuddered, “I was like a piece of bulletproof glass that had been shot at repeatedly: still in one piece, but spider webbed into hundreds of broken pieces. It was awful.” His voice sounded so hollow, “I’ve never felt so broken.”

“I’ll make things right, Clint,” said Natasha very firmly. “I’ll find a way to make things right.”

“Good. You do that,” said Clint with a smile. “Because I’m making a fudge truffle cheesecake and you aren’t getting a bite of it until you’ve fixed things between you and Phil.” his tone turned a little sad, “I don’t think he’s going to want to talk to me much in the next little bit. Until he gets his Situation resolved he’s going to keep his distance, so he’s going to need you, almost as much as I will. I think.”


	9. Matryoshka Doll

Phil finished the last item marked urgent at 2045 and sighed. Agent Coulson had proven to himself today that his reputation as SHIELD’s emotionless robot was well earned. He had attended every meeting on his agenda, dealt with a crisis that had been put on hold for his return, resolved several interdepartmental disputes, and not even those closest to him could tell that he felt like a Russian matryoshka doll that was missing all of its smaller dolls. He grimaced. He could probably thank Black Widow for influencing that particular analogy.

He considered sleeping on his couch that night, but it was early by his standards. He only slept at the office if he had international calls or crisis team meetings that kept him at SHIELD after midnight; and strategically, he knew he needed to keep up appearances of normalcy. Specifically, he needed to act like going home was a good thing, not something to be avoided because his bed was haunted by memories of Clint.

 

* * *

 

He was expecting it to be rough night without much sleep, what he wasn’t expecting was to find Natasha Romanov waiting for him on his living room couch. Standing by the door and considering strategic retreat options, he eyed her warily. He wasn’t sure he had the emotional fortitude to endure another attack from Black Widow.

She picked up a box from by her feet and put it on his table. It was a box of donuts. Phil felt some of the tension drain out of him and locked the door behind him.

“How worried should I be about my security?”

“Not too worried. If I didn’t have access to your biometrics even I wouldn’t have been able to get in without setting off your alarms.”

“Good to know.” He went about his usual evening routine (including checking for surveillance technology).

Black Widow could become anyone she needed to be, but maintaining strong emotional relationships built on trust wasn’t something she had much experience with and he knew how to handle his assets – even when they showed up uninvited, in his home, close to midnight, after a long day, and had recently used him as an emotional punching bag. She had something she needed to say so he would give her the time she needed to say it. “I’m going to have a cup of chamomile tea before bed. Would you like one?”

“You drink herbal tea, sir?”

He arched an eyebrow at her but didn’t put any bite into his voice. “It’s been a rough day, Natasha. I’m going to indulge a little tonight.” Phil busied himself in the kitchen putting the kettle on to boil and getting the mugs out to give her time to speak.

His kitchen didn’t have a direct line of sight to the end of the couch she was sitting on so he couldn’t see her when she finally broke the silence. “You deserve to know, Phil, he didn’t actually cry himself to sleep last night. He was upset, but I exaggerated it to make my point.” Phil felt echoes of his emotional reaction to their earlier encounter hit him all over again like waves crashing against a cliffside and was glad that she couldn’t see him. She continued, “I wanted to hurt you, but just enough that you would wake up and stop hurting each other.”

He literally could not remember the last time he had felt so emotionally exhausted. But this situation was his fault. He’d wanted that time with Clint and he’d known there would be unforeseen consequences. He gave himself a moment to rein in his emotional reaction before he simply said, “I understand.” And it was the truth. She didn’t want to see them hurting and she was acting on the intel she had. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t have all the pieces to understand his reasoning.

“I’ve always believed love is for children, and I always thought it was because people lost the ability to feel things like that as they grew up, but what I see between you two...” she shook her head, “Why would you both choose pain if joy is an option?”

Why indeed? Phil took a moment to breathe in the steam from the brewing tea. “I don’t know what you need from me right now, Natasha. I can’t tell you anything more than I’m sure he already has.”

He poured their tea and joined her on the couch with mugs and plates for the donuts. He spoke to her very gently, like he would to a frightened animal or a new recruit, “I’m not prepared to give up being a SHIELD agent. Can you understand that?”

“But there are ways around the rules, Phil.” She pleaded, “Please, don’t make him suffer like this if he doesn’t have to. He was alone for so long and you are just teasing him with a hope that things will change. Sometimes that kind of hope can hurt more than not having any hope at all. Why would you do that to him?”

Phil took a deep breath to hold back the emotions rising inside himself, this wasn’t Black Widow trying to break him, this was his friend Natasha, trying to protect her best friend, he could work with this. He kept his voice gentle. “I’m not doing it because I want to; I was almost fired because of one kiss. I used up my ‘get out of jail free’ card. The Director won’t be able to protect me if it happens again.”

Her expression went from open pleading to the closed laser focus of an assassin in the blink of an eye. “Who filed the complaint?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He looked at her sharply. “And I don’t want you digging into it, Romanov. I’ll make it an order if I have to. I have some suspicions and for now it’s something I need to take care of myself. Understood?”

Natasha scowled at her mug of tea. “No. We’re Strike Team Delta. Whatever you’re dealing with, let us help. Give me a chance to prove I want to help you.”

Phil felt the momentary urge to confide in her and tell her everything, to give her that opportunity. But as much as he trusted her, she was not the right person for this mission. Black Widow was loyal to Clint and somewhat loyal to him, but he didn’t fool himself for a moment that her primary drive was loyalty to SHIELD.

While he trusted that her loyalty to Clint would probably prevent her from becoming a HYDRA spy, the word ‘probably’ made it 100% impossible to trust her with what he knew. This was a mission for people who were ‘company men’ whose primary loyalty was to SHIELD itself and, as impressive as Clint and Natasha were, no one would describe them as ‘company men’. They would both question and challenge SHIELD if they disagreed, and while that was usually a characteristic he valued in agents, this was the one mission where it could be a fatal weakness. They were loyal, but they would not die for SHIELD. They would die for each other, for him, to save innocents, yes; but that’s different from dying to save an idea. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t involve them in this.

He reached out to squeeze her hand. “Go home to Clint, Natasha. You can help by being there for him,” his voice caught for a moment and he had to push through the rest of the words, “be there for him because I can’t.”

“What is it you’re not telling us, Phil?”

He smiled at her fondly. “Go home, Natasha. Tell Clint I said you guys could take tomorrow morning off and relax.”

“You’ll tell me what is really going on one of these days, Coulson.”

“Probably,” he nodded, “but not today.”

“I won’t push, but only because we trust you. If you need backup on this, whatever it is, authorized or not, you know you’ve got us.”

“I know. And that day may come.” He finished his tea. “But for now I didn’t give myself the morning off, so I’m going to get some sleep.”

Natasha finished her tea. “Good night, Phil. And if you need anything, I’ll be there for Clint, but I can also be there for you.”

He thanked her for the offer, but even as he said it and walked her to the door, he knew he’d never be able to go to her. She was Clint’s and Clint needed her. His heartbreak was something he’d have to bear by himself.

The next day when Barton and Romanov came by his office in the afternoon there was a slightly awkward formality to them, but it was nothing like the silence and antagonism he’d felt the day before. Whatever Natasha had said had worked. Given enough time, Phil thought they’d be able to find their equilibrium again.


	10. Close Enough to Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to do work things next weekend so I figured I would post the final chapter this week instead. Especially because they are both pretty short.

It was almost a week later before Barton came by alone and knocked on Phil’s office door. In classic Barton style he was pushing the door open even before he finished knocking. “Hey Coulson, you got a few minutes to talk about the new range program?”

Phil smiled and motioned him in. “Sure, pull up a seat.” He closed the search windows he had open and focused on the agent in front of him. It was getting easier to see Barton and not think about Clint. Okay, that was a lie. He was getting better at seeing Barton and focusing on him without being distracted by memories of Clint.

Clint also looked like he was doing better.

The rumour mill had put them both through the wringer. Agent ‘Robot’ Coulson charged with sexual misconduct. Clint ‘Carnie’ Barton, sleeping his way to the top. Some of it had been ugly. But Phil had been pleasantly surprised by how many people had defended him and Clint personally in their absence. He hadn’t noticed at first, but he made it a rule to review disciplinary records on a very regular basis and, in going through the paperwork for the time he was away, the information that was missing was almost as telling as the information that was included.

For instance, Deputy Director Hill had unexpectedly shipped Agent Harris off base on a long-term low priority surveillance op. For an agent like Harris, who Phil knew had been on the senior agent talent list as an up-and-coming agent to watch, it was almost as bad as a demotion and clearly showed that Hill had decided he was no longer worth watching.

Junior Agent Argent was on Coulson’s radar only because of how often she was written up for insubordination. She idolized Hawkeye and logged more voluntary training hours on the range than almost anyone else, but her performance was only mediocre. In a dispute between her and Agent Brock Rumlow that came to blows on the range, the Range Master had assigned her 20 hours of range practice as punishment over the next month and banned Agent Rumlow from the range for the same duration. But the event write up clearly showed that Agent Argent had thrown the first punch and the Range Master would know that assigning her practice time was more of a reward.

Agent Sitwell had restricted recreation privileges for three Agents all at the same time with a bizarre provision: they were banned from watching any programs on the SHIELD TVs except Super Nanny.

Agent Carter had written up two agents for unnecessary chatter during a combat training class and punished them each with 160 hours of audio report transcription to be completed within two months. It was a mind-numbingly tedious task that was usually given out as a disciplinary measure with a time range of 8 to 40 hours. He’d have to check, but Carter’s sentence might be unprecedented.

All totaled, there were 16 reports that fit this category of strange. What they all had in common was an unusual or unexpected punishment (within the letter of the law but illogical or extreme in its implementation) and absolutely no record of the specifics of what the agents had done, just the general categorization of ‘behaviour unbecoming’. It wasn’t a rule that the exact words had to written down, but it was customary to include notes in the disciplinary report for future reference.

What Phil had on his side were discipline reports that included timestamps and executive access to the SHIELD surveillance systems. It didn’t take him long to find out that in all sixteen cases the agents who had been punished had been talking about him and Clint. Phil knew all of the supervising agents involved, but he never would have expected them to stand up for him in that way. They weren’t defending him as an Agent, they were standing up for him as a person and showing loyalty beyond the call of duty, to him and Clint; and he also thought Clint would like to know.

So when Clint showed up to talk about the Range Master’s virtual tests, it was an easy impulse to wave the younger man over to his computer and rewatch the footage from the range. Rumlow had been talking to Argent about range rankings and had commented that Barton got his top scores by sleeping with the boss. Alison didn’t look like she’d even processed what he’d said before she was slamming her palm into his nose and sweeping his feet out from under him. He put up a good fight and gave better than he got, but her first blow had broken his nose and the Range Master broke up the fight very quickly. When he heard what had caused the fight he turned red and ordered Rumlow off his range while he could still walk.

“Awww, jeez, boss. Now I’m going to feel really bad about dissing his virtual range designs.”

“Are they that bad?”

“No, not really, but they aren’t quite close enough to reality to be used in place of real training. The timing is a fraction too slow and that kind of thing matters when people are shooting at you.”

“So not good for live combat training. What about for form practice?”

Clint’s face lit up with big grin. “You’re right! It would be perfect for that. Someone could definitely practice the angles required and get quality playback on how to make a great shot. It could be a great tutorial in that way.”

“Okay, write up the recommendation and I’ll pass it on as an action item.”

Clint was still standing beside Phil’s chair. He looked down at the starkpad in his hand, over to the couch that used to be the place where he did all his paperwork, and then back to Phil. “Am I… Do you mind if I stay? I mean, just to use your couch and fill out the report?” He was babbling, “I haven’t seen much of you lately, not that that should matter, but your office is just so much quieter than the Specialist work stations and if I have questions about the forms or the report I could ask you… or not ask you if you are busy with something. See if I was here I could just look up and see if you were busy so I’d know not to ask you then and I could wait until it was a good time when you weren’t busy.”

Phil tried to hide his smirk. “Are you implying there are times when I’m not busy while at work?”

Clint’s face fell.

Phil felt like a heel. With Clint grinning at him like he had been, Phil had momentarily forgotten that for the last week they’d been walking on eggshells around each other and weren’t back to teasing and bantering like friends yet.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I shouldn’t have teased. You were just babbling and I couldn’t resist. Of course you’re welcome to stay. My office has felt strange with you avoiding it recently. I’ve--” he cut himself off. He didn’t want to say he’d missed the man because it was true he’d missed Barton, but he’d missed Clint more.

Having him here beside him, leaning over his shoulder to watch the video on his computer, he could smell Clint’s aftershave, he was close enough to touch, close enough to… and that was more than enough of that thought process.

Phil’s voice was a little strained when he continued. “I’ve missed the occasional distraction; it’s nice to have people around. I mean, I would never get work done if people were always around, but with you around---” Phil snapped his jaw shut and started to blush. “And now I’m the one babbling. You’re a bad influence, Barton. I mean-- I didn’t mean that! I just meant. Dammit.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Barton, you are welcome to sit on my couch and do your paperwork and your reports.” Phil rolled his eyes for comedic effect and purposely didn’t look at Clint.

Clint had a line about his distracting lips all ready to go, but he decided now was not the right time to tease Phil. The poor man was bright red and looked about ready to burst. So he mercifully just did as he was told and with a quiet, “Thanks, boss,” got comfortable on Phil’s couch and started to work on his report.

It felt good, almost like coming home, like how things were before.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are worth their weight in gold!  
> ...Has anyone ever weighed a comment?
> 
> Feedback is love, and I would love to know what you think. Thank you!


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